


How He Moves

by thesoulsailor



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, ballet!ashton, ballet!au, ballet!luke, michael calls luke princess, punk!calum, punk!michael, tw abuse, tw violence, tw vulgar language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoulsailor/pseuds/thesoulsailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>And Luke knew he was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pry his eyes away. Because the feeling that spread through Luke's body when he looked at the strange boy was the same he strived for when he danced. The stranger was consummate.</i><br/> </p><p>or Luke lives for the ballet, Michael lives for the moment, Ashton is a dance prodigy and Calum will do pretty much anything to win his boyfriend back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tour En L'air

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr version of this edit plus fic rec](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com/post/103671466776/how-he-moves-by-thesoulsailor-rating-explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, yay! With me I come bearing a shiny, new, ballet vs punk rock fic . First up a few things: 
> 
> 1) This fic was inspired by the show Dance Academy, which I watched religiously as a child and the german movie Gangs.  
> 2) I don't dance ballet myself but I did a lot of research for this, so I hope I manage to capture what it's like to be a dancer.  
> 3) I've also never been to Australia and I want to give a huge shout-out to Tegan (andlemmekisslou on tumblr) who's given me all the straya knowledge I needed. 
> 
> Now enough of me talking, let's get to the good part! 
> 
> Enjoy!

"So this is it?" Luke's mother surveyed the room with pursed lips. "A bit small, or am I wrong?"

"The rooms are all the same size, mother."

“How disappointing.” Liz lifted a perfectly manicured finger and sweeped it across the tabletop of the desk that was located underneath the window sill.

Outside the window there were several cars lined up on the courtyard of the housing complex, students being hugged goodbye by their families, private staff or school employees dealing with the luggage.

Liz’s Louboutins produced a clacking sound with each step she took on the worn-out, yet meticulously clean hardwood flooring. The faint smell of citrus detergent hinted that the room had been professionally cleaned during the summer. No speck of dust lay on any part of the sparse rosewood furniture. “Well, at least it’s clean. I’ll call the driver to bring up your bags.”

“Thank you.” Luke mumbled after her.

As soon as his mother left, he let a huge grin spread over his face.

He had made it! He, Luke Robert Hemmings, was officially a student at the National Academy of Dance.

To release some of the buzz inside his chest and head, he jumped into the air, doing a full turn mid-air before landing smoothly on his feet. Before he knew what was happening there was enthusiastic clapping coming from the door and he whirled around to face an unfamiliar boy standing there. The boy was about Luke’s age, with curly caramel-coloured hair and gleaming hazel eyes, thin lips stretching over perfect white teeth, a _something_ that Luke identified as a bandana a moment later, tied around his head.

“Flawless _tour en l’air_ , I’m jealous.” The boy said and entered the room. His movements were smooth and deliberate, posture upright and chin tilted upwards. Luke smiled. He walked the same way. Being clad in black slippers, grey trackies and an (admittedly awful) purple shirt, the boy was a ballet dancer as well.

He offered Luke a tan-skinned hand. “My name is Ashton Irwin, I live in the room opposite you.”

“Luke Hemmings.” Luke said and shook the other boy’s hand.

“First year?” Ashton asked, his gaze wandering around the still bare room.

“Second.”

Ashton turned to shoot him an excited smile. “No way? Me as well!”

They fist-bumped, Ashton doing a quick pirouette afterwards that made Luke laugh.

“I’m still new though, transferred from Adelaide.”

“Ah, that explains why I’ve never seen you before. But no worries, mate. I’ll show you ‘round.” Ashton winked at him. “I’m gonna go let you unpack now but make sure to swing by once you’re done, yeah? Then you’re gonna get the grande tour.”

“I will.” Luke promised, watching as Ashton strut out of the room with a wave.

Once the other boy was gone Luke did a pirouette himself and buried his face in his hands, letting out a muffled scream. Then he schooled his face back into an impassive expression. He wasn’t able to express his excitement any further as the next moment the room to his door was pushed open and his mother walked back in, closely followed by their driver. The man dumped two of Luke’s suitcases on the ground before hurrying straight back out the door, presumably to get the rest of Luke’s luggage.

“My assistant called me.” Luke’s mother said. Luke didn’t let his smile falter. “As soon as Bernhard is done, I have to leave unfortunately.”

Luke wanted to be surprised, but he wasn’t. His mother let her designer handbag slip from her shoulder down into the crook of her arm, pulling the zipper open with a slight crease between her eyebrows. After a short period of rummaging she had found what she had been looking for and pulled her purse out of her bag.

“Here take those. The white one is for your everyday use, the red one is for emergencies and emergencies only. It has no limit. Your father and I trust you to not abuse that.”

With a solemn nod Luke took the two credit cards his mother was holding out for him. Both had his name imprinted in gold letters.

Luke met his mother’s stern gaze with what he hoped to be a trustworthy one. “Of course not. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

They were interrupted by Bernhard’s arrival with the rest of Luke’s bags. His mother frowned at the ungentle way the duffel bag was placed on the ground before she turned back to look at Luke, a honest smile appearing on her face. She kissed his cheek once.

“Have a lot of fun, Luke. Your father and I are very proud of you. We can’t wait to come to the winter show and see you dance first row.”

“Thank you.” Luke felt his cheeks heat up. He was miles away from a spot in the first row or even as a principal - the main role - but he felt the determination in him as well. Luke was a ballet dancer. He was nothing if not determined.

“Remember to text your brothers from time to time.” His mother threw other her shoulder on the way out. Luke was glad she couldn’t see his eye-roll. Jack was way too busy interning at their father’s law firm to even think about anything else than work and Ben had last texted him before his trip to Europe three months ago.

“I will!” He called after her, the same moment the door to his new room fell shut.

Slowly, so slowly that he was able to survey every nook and cranny of the room that was supposed to be _his_ for the next twelve months, Luke spinned around. Then he walked over to his bags.

Unpacking was a quick deal. Most of his clothes were already bagged in white garment bags, ready to be hung into the bulky wardrobe. He set up his stereo next and placed his phone on the dock station. Blasting music at a moderate enough volume that he wouldn't disturb the students moving in next to his room, he began to store away the pile of brand new school supplies and books his mother's assistant had organised for him. Afterwards he applied grey sheets to his bed and pinned a string of fairy lights to the headboard. Jack and Ben had often made fun of him for them, but Luke liked them enough to just ignore the snide remarks. They reminded him of stars that weren’t visible in the city. Lastly he hung up his Carabosse poster.

To celebrate his tenth birthday a couple of years ago, his parents had taken him to the Royal Ballet to see Sleeping Beauty. Carabosse was the main role, the Dark Fairy, in the Sleeping Beauty ballet and often danced by a man. After the show his father had dragged him to the stage and introduced him to the dancer. Luke had known then that this was what he wanted to do.

Smiling Luke run his fingers over the silver sharpie signing in the corner of the poster before crawling off the bed. He changed out of his travel clothes into sienna-coloured jeans, grey toms and a simple white button-down before he made his way across the hall.

Ashton opened upon the second knock, pulling him into the room with a giggle. “I’ll be done in a second. Make yourself comfortable.”

Ashton’s room was a lot more crammed than Luke’s, despite being endowed with the same sparse pieces of rosewood furniture Luke’s room was furnished with. Few clothes, single sheets of paper and a lot of ballet attire was strewn all over the floor, several half-empty suitcases taking up rest of the ground. The wall above the bed was plastered with photos and movie posters alike. Luke sat down on the unmade sheets of Ashton’s bed while the other boy struggled to put on his shoes.

“I already arrived yesterday. Sorry for the mess!”

“No problem.” Luke smiled as wide as he could. He didn’t have much experience with having friends. There hadn’t been many boys at his old school who had thought ballet was cool and those who didn’t care had eventually ditched him as soon as they had found out he was gay. So it was important for Luke to win Ashton as his friend, or keep him. Luke wasn’t quite sure if they were friends yet.

“Of course, we’re friends.” Ashton laughed at him, making Luke blush. He hadn’t realised he had thought out loud. “You’re my new person.”

“What happened to your last person?”

Ashton sighed and stared out of the window. “Achilles tendon.”

Luke gave a sympathetic hum. A snapped Achilles tendon was the instant end of every dancer’s career.

Finally clad in a grey jumper, black skinny jeans and converse, Ashton opened the door. “Off we go.”

*

The school itself was located a good ten minutes on foot away from the housing complex. In awe, Luke looked up at the four-story high building. The school was a masterpiece of new age architecture, wood and metal elements seamlessly flowing into vitreous walls. Four stories containing the possibility of every single wish Luke had ever made.

“Sadly they don’t do the Open House before the beginning of the new year anymore, but it’s nice to just look at, innit?”

“Very nice.” Luke answered absent-mindedly.

Ashton laughed. “Better get used to it now, dude, you will spend a lot of time in that building. But I’m hungry now. Let’s get smoothies.”

They got their smoothies and a sandwich each in a small deli Ashton directed them to, hidden in one of the side-streets. Luke decided that it would be nice to enjoy their meal by the water, so they ordered their food for takeaway and walked down to the harbour.

“Most of us spent our free periods here. Pay attention to it and you might find a ballet dancer here and there.” Ashton told him as he directed them to a row of picnic tables along the promenade. With a content sigh Luke slumped down on the sun-warmed concrete concrete bench and opened his lunch bag.

“This is so awesome. I love Sydney.”

“Adelaide that bad?”

“No, not all. It’s just not as…”

“... as Sydney.” Ashton finished for him and winked. “It’s okay, I totally get it. Come from the middle of nowhere myself.”

The next ten minutes Luke spent learning pretty much everything there was to know about the curly-haired boy. Ashton danced since he was eight, had trained in his hometown until he had been old enough to audition for the National Academy of Dance. His mother was a single-parent responsible for three children. Hence Ashton had only gotten into the school through a scholarship. Luke felt his heart shrink at the fact. A scholarship meant Ashton had to be good, a lot better than him in any case.

“And now I’m here.” The curly-haired boy finished with a brilliant smile, crumpling the wrapper of his sandwich into a ball. “What about you?”

“I’m-” Luke hadn’t finished the first word of his sentence, when they were interrupted by shouts.

“Ashton! Hey, Ashton!”

The boy opposite him paled, jumping up in the next moment. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Hastily, Luke stood up, trying to locate the source of the noise. He hadn’t seen much more than a blur of pink and leather, before he was pulled backwards.

“You have to help me, okay?” Ashton pressed out as they were running down the promenade.

“Sure, but what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…”

“Ashton, hey!”

“How does he even do that.” Ashton grumbled, fastening hs pace. Luke could hear footsteps behind them pick up pace as well.

“They are catching up.”

“I know, I- that’s it!” A relieved grin spreading over his face, Ashton took a sharp turn to the left, steering them towards a bus stop. The bus standing there had just stopped, passengers still leaving. While Ashton handed the bus driver the money for their tickets, Luke turned to look out the front window.

Two boys were running towards the bus, both clad in all black converse and ripped skinny jeans, band shirts with holes in them and the exact same leather jacket. But as similar as their outfits were as different were the rest of their looks. The first boy was all tanned skin and raven hair, with scrawny yet muscular limbs. He was running a few steps ahead of the other boy.

The second one was pale, even paler than Luke himself, his built bulkier than the one of his friend. He had dyed his hair a screaming shade of pink.

Luke wasn’t wearing his glasses so he wasn’t able to distinguish any finer features from the distance but he didn’t need to. The two boys looked exactly like the people his mum had warned him of since he was young. Troublemakers, as his dad liked to call them.

“Okay, I’ve got our tickets, let’s go.” They made their way past the first few rows of seats. Luke felt a wave of relief rush through him as he felt the ground beneath him come to live, until-

“Hey, Ash, hey!”

“Fucking fuck.” Luke could hear Ashton curse as the older boy pushed past a couple of preteen girls. They had almost reached the end of the bus before Ashton pulled him into a fourseater, already occupied by an old lady looking out the window.

Ashton didn’t manage much more than a “Just ignore them.” before the raven-haired boy flopped down next to the old lady.

“Ashton.” He drawled out happily, while his friend planted himself in the aisle. Though his chest was still heaving from the sprint the pink-haired boy looked equal parts bored and positively annoyed as he leaned against the grabpole behind him. And Luke had wanted to ignore him, much like he had managed to not look at the raven-haired boy but then he made the mistake of just letting his gaze aimlessly trail over his face. It went all downhill from there.

Luke’s gaze was caught by plump, deep pink lips forming a small o, allowing quick-paced puffs of breath escape through them and light eyes, that were focussed on the window screen above the old lady’s head. Luke’s gaze was caught by a face that was all angles, an eyebrow piercing and cheekbones to cut glass with. And Luke knew he was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pry his eyes away. Because the feeling that spread through Luke's body when he looked at the strange boy was the same he strived for when he danced. The stranger was consummate.

Luke was pulled back to reality, by Ashton going tense beneath him.

“This classifies as stalking, Calum.” He hissed out, hazel eyes shooting daggers at the raven-haired boy who didn’t seem fazed in the least.

“Please.” Calum, apparently, rolled his eyes in the fondest manner Luke had ever seen and rose both hands. “I just wanna talk to you, Ash. As you don’t answer any of my texts.”

Luke’s attention was ripped right back to the pink-haired boy when he let out a small snort, his eyes being shut. None of the other two boys seemed to catch it. Luke allowed himself a few more seconds of staring before he focussed back on the conversation next to him.

Ashton let out an indignant huff at Calum’s words and crossed his arms in front of his chest, tilting his head away.

“Anyways, so, Ashy, I was thinking-”

“I already told you...” At this point Luke was pretty sure Ashton was seething. “... not to call me that.”

A small pout formed on Calum’s lips, his puppy eyes growing incredibly wide and sad. “You told me you thought it was cute.”

“Yeah.” Ashton snorted. “I did when we were together. We are not together anymore.”

Luke quickly masked his surprise. Ashton had never told him he was gay. But then Luke hadn’t told him either. At least that explained the horrendous purple shirt.

“But-”

“For fuck’s sake, Calum!” Ashton threw his hands in the air. “Do I have to spell it out for you? G-e-t. L-o-s-t.”

Calum’s lips were still trying to form the words when Ashton jumped up, pulling Luke up with him.

“Let us through, Michael.”

Luke’s heartbeat sped up. Michael, his name was Michael.

The pink-haired boy shot Ashton a lazy smirk, then stepped out of the way. Cursing under his breath again, Ashton pushed past him. Luke hurried to follow him, just in the same moment the bus came to a rattling halt. Taken by surprise, Luke stumbled forward, tripping over his own feet. A split second before his face met the linoleum of the bus floor, there were strong hands wrapped around his arms, prohibiting the collision and pulling him back upright.

“Careful.” An amused voice murmured into his ear. Before Luke had any time to process what had just happened, the very same hands that had saved him before, pushed him out of the bus door. This time Ashton caught him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded. “I’m just not used to taking the bus.” His heart was beating against his rib cage. “You?”

“I’m just wonderful.” Ashton sighed. “Just my stupid ex-boyfriend, is all.”

They spent the rest of the thirty-minute walk back in silence. Luke’s head was buzzing.

_“Careful.” “Careful.” “Careful.”_

When Ashton invited him over for a movie in his room as soon as they had reached the entrance hall of the housing complex, Luke said yes, pretending the spaces where Michael had touched him weren’t prickling, still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	2. Tendu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent the whole day showered in fake blood staring at year fives through milky contact lenses. I love motto days.
> 
> Enjoy!

Luke awoke to the high tingling of his phone alarm. The moment he had pried his eyes open, his heart began hammering in his chest.

Today was the day. Today he would walk the glory halls some of the best dancers in the world had walked. Today was his first day as a student of the NAD.

Humming under his breath, he rolled out of bed, stretching extensively before scampering over to his wardrobe.

His first double-period every morning would be ballet, followed by four periods of normal school subjects and another two hours of ballet in the afternoon.

After having changed into a fresh pair of underwear and an all black combination of slippers, trackies and shirt, he slung the bag he had already packed the evening before over his shoulder and stepped out of his room. He spotted Ashton a few metres down the hallway so he jogged to catch up with him. Luke was relieved to see that the other boy had gone for the exact same outfit as him, only a more colourful version. It had been something like an unofficial uniform at his old school and it made Luke happy to see that it was the same here.

“Morning.” The curly-haired boy greeted him, stifling a yawn with his elbow as he was busy tying a grass green bandana around his head. “You nervous?”

“A bit.” Luke admitted, watching the students walking past them. One of the many things he loved about ballet was that there was a certain atmosphere, a certain seriousness amongst all dancers, mixed with incredible joy. He smiled as a group of laughing girls took them over, arms crossed with each other. “This is it, isn’t it? Either you make it here or you don’t make it at all?”

Ashton laughed. “Wow, no pressure there. Relax, Luke, you will do great.”

“Says the one who was good enough to win a scholarship.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good.” There was no arrogance in Ashton’s voice as he said it. He just knew that he was an excellent dancer. “But, mate, this is about having fun. Try to enjoy it and don’t worry yourself ill. Besides there are other professions as well, you know.”

“Not for me.”

Ashton smiled. “Same.”

Outside the sun was already shining in full-force. “Let’s hurry, we don’t wanna be late.”

Willing his stomach to calm down, Luke jogged after the curly-haired boy when he took off.

*

They were just on time, slipping into the changing room right before a bulky boy with almost white blonde hair was about to close the door.

“Irwin, didn’t think I’d see you again this year.” The boy sneered after he had thrown the door shut behind Luke.

Grinning, Ashton flipped him off. “And a beautiful first morning to you too, Dakota. You fixed that thing where you can’t land without toppling over yet?”

Dakota glared at him before turning around to return to his friends, two boys in the corner of the changing room. One was tall, with cropped sandy blonde hair and the longest limbs Luke had ever seen, the other all chocolate-coloured skin stretching over emaciated bones.

“Dakota, Finn, Tywaun. Envious bitches.” Ashton murmured, dumping his bag onto the bench with a sigh before toeing off his shoes. “The rest of the lads are great, but I advise you steer clear of those three.”

“Figured that.” Luke patted his friend’s shoulder, causing the other boy to smile. In comfortable silence, they changed.

*

The studio was of mediocre size. Polished dark-parqueted flooring reflected the sunlight that was flooding in through the vitreous back wall. The sidewalls were consisting of two big mirrors, one blank, the other holding a barre. In the corner of the room someone had installed a complicated looking stereo.

Ashton lead him towards two girls standing next to the barre, stretching, their respective left foot perched on the wooden bar. It took Luke a moment to realise he was in fact not seeing twice but that it were twins standing in front of him. They were both petite, a head smaller than Ashton, with fair skin and wild red curls tamed into buns. Freckles dusted over their faces and necks, they looked like the embodiment of summer. Both looked up upon their arrival, identical smiles spreading over their lips.

“Ashton!” The next moment the three of them were hugging. Luke tried not to feel too awkward while he waited for someone to notice him. Laughing, Ashton let go of the girls, stepping back next to Luke and pointing at each of the girls.

“Luke, these are Victoire and Veronica. Ladies, this is Luke Hemmings, freshly transferred from Adelaide.”  

“Hi.” The twins said simultaneously, laughing at their own synchronised behaviour a moment later.

Ashton slung an arm around the one standing closer to him. “Victoire here is my pas de deux partner.”

“That’s right.” The right twin grinned and fist-bumped Ashton. The left twin, Veronica, gave an exaggerated sigh before turning towards Luke. “Just ignore those two show-offs. So Adelaide, yeah? Kenn Academy?”

Luke shook his head. “John Cranko.”

Her eyes grew wide. “No way!”

Luke felt his cheeks heat up. “Yeah I was, I mean-”

Veronica took his hand. “Just to make this clear, I’m calling dibs on you right now. You are so going to be my dance partner. Don’t care if Old Bailee pairs us up or not.”

Luke's answer was cut off by the metallic entrance door falling shut.

"Wonderful, wonderful, I count twenty heads, everybody here then." Luke turned to look at the man who had just entered the room. He was tall and haggard, clear grey eyes and bushy eyebrows overshadowing a tiny mouth and sharp nose. His jet-black hair was tousled, standing in every direction possible. Luke guessed him to be about fourty.  

"My name is James Bailard and I will be your classical ballet teacher for the upcoming year. As it is appropriate you will address me with Sir, as I will address you with Mr and Miss or your first name. You will learn to know the difference."

Some of the students, the ones that had been here last year, Luke presumed, chuckled at that.

"Now everybody to the barre! Warm-up while I get to know all the new faces."

Mr Bailard clapped his hands and everybody started moving. Giggling, Ashton dragged him towards the middle of the bar. After they had done the obligatory amount of plies, Ashton’s eyes met his in the mirror. "Let’s do some tendus?"

Luke nodded. Straightening his back, he changed into the third position, placing one foot behind the other so his feet formed a T. Making sure to stretch his toes into a full-point, he slid the foot away from the barre in a semi circle over the floor, until his foot was in line with his belly button, then he reversed the movement, sliding the foot back not forth the next time.

After a few minutes they changed from tendus to degages. The exercise worked almost exactly like the tendus only now they lifted their feet a few inches off the ground, shifting their focus onto the pointed toes. Luke could feel his ankle muscles warm up at the stretch and smiled to himself. He kept his eyes on the back of Ashton’s head when the teacher appeared next to the other boy. "Ah, Ashton. Delightful to see you again."

"Glad to be here, Sir."

The teacher smiled. "Remember to stretch out your toes when you do the Grande Battement, yes?"

Luke saw Ashton make the correction. Mr Bailard hummed contently.

“That’s what I meant, way better. I expect you on your prime again this year, Ashton, don’t disappoint me!”

“Never.” Luke could hear the determined smile in his friend’s voice. After another few minutes of banter, Mr Bailard finally turned towards Luke.

"Ah, fresh meat, nice, nice. Tell me your name?"

"Luke Hemmings, Sir."

"Mhm." Mr Bailard eyed him intently, his gaze following every movement he made. "Do a pirouette for me, would you?"

Hastily, Luke obliged and stepped a few metres away from the barre. He could feel the eyes of all the other students on him as he did the spin. Once he was done, he returned to his spot at the barre, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Mr Bailard nodded at him as he laid a hand on the bar. "Wonderful, wonderful. We can work with that. Your technique is impeccable. Where are you coming from?”

“John Cranko, in Adelaide.”

“Ah, I see.” Clapping his hands, the ballet teacher left it at that and strut to the middle of the room. "Alright, boys to the middle, girls to the barre! Keep warming up while I evaluate the lads first, would you?”

Luke ended up getting paired with a pleased as punch Veronica. Luke was pretty pleased as well. They harmonized good together. Veronica had no trust problems, a thing making Luke’s job infinitely easier. Ashton and Victoire who, how Luke learned as the class dragged on, were not only some of the best dancers in class seen individually but also the furthest duo overall, seemed amused at first but soon their smiles turned more strained. It was no deep rivalry though. It was just dance.

When the bell announced the end of the lesson Luke was bathed in sweat, his arms muscles burning from lifting Veronica more than a dozen times. Nonetheless he grinned despite the chafed spaces between his toes, when Mr Bailard released him with a sharp, encouraging nod.

*

By the end of the week there was not one muscle in Luke's body left that didn't hurt. Hence his enthusiasm was dim, to say the least, when Ashton popped into his room on Friday evening and scraped him off the floor, insisting that they were going to go to a party.

"Just let me die here, please."

"Sorry, dude, ain't happening." Ashton giggled, and slung his arms around Luke's torso, pulling him into an upright position. "We have a party to attend!"

"Take someone else."

"Not happening either. You signed to be my person, so be my person."

With a groan Luke shifted his weight from the other boy's arms onto his own legs and turned around. “Fine, because it’s you. But you owe me.”

*

"I'm still not sure about this to be honest." Biting his lip, Luke looked up at the five-story high apartment building. Stroboscope light illuminated the windows of the third story from time to time, the cacophony of countless voices screaming and laughing over ear-splitting Drum'N'Bass sounding down onto the pavement.

"Don't worry, you look fine." Reassuringly Ashton patted his shoulder and dragged him into the dimly lit stairwell of the building. The rhythmic thumping of the bassline made the worn-out linoleum beneath their feet vibrate.

"That was not what I meant." Luke bellowed over the music that got louder by the second.

Ashton just smiled at him and pulled him past couple after couple and random drunk people that had escaped onto the stairs.

To say that the flat the party was taking place in was crowded would have been an understatement. Gaze flicking over unfamiliar faces, Luke stumbled through the masses of people, countless bodies colliding with his. Laughing and belting along to the music, Ashton pulled him to the makeshift dance floor. He seemed to know most of the people around, hugged all of them. Unable to do much else, Luke did what he did best. After a few bellowed orders from Ashton, he danced, let the bass take over his body. Hip Hop was part of his Alternative Dances class so it was easy, really, letting go. Soon enough there were bodies moving with his, hands touching his skin, a few shouted compliments enough to make him drunk.

By the time Luke had made it to the kitchen, he was drenched in sweat and other people's perfume. Ashton long lost in the crowd, Luke let out a relieved sigh as soon as he had elbowed his way into the miniscule room. The kitchen was was a lot less crammed, the stench of weed and cigarettes heavy in the air. Luke felt his heart plummet when he spotted a familiar thatch of pink hair in the corner where the kitchen table was located.

Willing his heartbeat to slow down, he averted his gaze and trudged over to the other side of the room. There were a good of fifty liquor bottles rowed on the kitchen counter, plastic cups and paper towels stacked next to it. Sweeping his fringe off his forehead, he tugged a fresh red solo cup off the stack and contemplated his choices. Luke wasn’t an experienced drinker, there had been a few parties at houses of other friends from dancing but this was a whole new level. This was a real party. His fingertips had just brushed over the cap of a Jack bottle when he was startled by a voice next to him.

"Need help?"

Wide-eyed Luke stared at the guy next to him. He was a few years older than Luke, with stark green eyes and a sandy brown quiff.

“I… no, I’m…”

“I’m gonna mix you something.” Shooting Luke a friendly smile, the stranger began moving, choosing various bottles with the expertise of somebody who had done that many times before. “I’m James, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Uh…” Luke felt his throat close up.

James laughed. “Alright, Uh. Can I ask you something?”

“Luke.” Luke managed. “My name is Luke. And sure?”

“Luke.” James beamed at him before turning back to the counter. “No offense, mate, but you don’t really look like the type of guy who usually attends… events like this?”

And Luke would have given a lot for the ground beneath him to just open up and swallow him whole. He felt his cheeks and neck heat up. “Oh, no, no, I wouldn’t! Uhm, my friend has dragged me along. He’s somewhere in the living room, I think. Ashton? Ashton Irwin?”

“Well, that explains a lot.” Having screwed the lid off the last bottle back on, James turned towards him and held out the drink he had mixed. Luke wasn’t sure what the older boy meant, but James’s smile was still friendly, so he shrugged it off and reached a hand out to take the drink. The moment his fingertips brushed over the plastic, the opening of cup tipped down, showering Luke in what reeked like hard liquor and mint. Luke gasped at the cold liquid drenching the front of his shirt and crotch.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, here let me…” Then there were nimble fingers undoing his belt and James, a lot nearer than he had been before, and Luke realised. Mortified, he looked to the side. He was met with half a dozen eyes already fixed on him. They were huddled around the kitchen table, snickering, laughing at him. For a split second Luke met light, blue in the shitty ceiling light, irides. He felt something inside him snap.

“What the fuck, mate!” Forcefully, Luke detached James’s hands from his jeans and took a step back. His heart was hammering against his rib cage.  
“Relax, dude.” The older boy laughed at him, laughed at him as well, and was back on him within a heartbeat.

"No! Fuck you! Let me go!" Anger rising inside his chest, Luke pushed the James off of him and whirled around. He was out of the kitchen within a few seconds. Ignoring the bodies colliding into his on the hallway, he pushed his way through the crowd. He had nearly made it to the front door when a hand wrapped around his arm.

"Hey, ballet boy, wait up!" Luke felt his head fall at the voice. Michael. Michael who had laughed at him just like the rest of his dipshit friends. Luke would not cry. He would not cry in front of Michael and any other of his leather-jacket monkey companions that may have followed him in order to not miss the drama.

Slowly Luke turned to look back at the pink-haired boy. "Let me go."

"You're drenched, man. You’re gonna get sick or something, if you go outside like that. Listen, I'm gonna drive you home."

"No!” Luke made sure he spoke clearly. “Fuck you.”

With gritted teeth he jerked himself free and turned around. “And fuck your sick-ass friends. You're arseholes. You're an arsehole!"

Luke didn't know what irritated him more. That there was beer slowly dripping into his pants or that he had been stupid enough to actually think Michael, beautiful, interesting, consummate in his own way _Michael_ could be anything else than an arsehole.  

“Just…” Luke bit back tears. He would not cry. “You know what? Whatever. I’m out.”

Not sparing the other boy another glance he made a beeline for the door. There was no hand holding him back this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	3. Plies

The following monday Luke was awoken by a loud scream. Alarmed he ambled out of bed and out of his room. Hissing at the cold floor, he bridged the hallway and ripped the door to Ashton's room open, finding the curly-haired boy standing in front of his window, cursing like a sailor.

"What the fuck is this shit?! You have got to be kidding me! "

"Ashton!"

“Luke!” The other boy bend his upper body to look at him before turning his gaze right back out of the window, waving him closer. “Come here and look at this!”

Rubbing a hand over his face with a groan, Luke stomped the last few metres to Ashton’s side. “Seriously, mate, I thought you were getting butchered or something, you can’t just- what the fuck?”

Ashton lived in one of the rooms with a view of the area behind the housing complex. There wasn’t much to see apart from trees and an abandoned road-rail bridge. But right there, in the view line of Ashton’s window, someone had spray-painted a graffiti reading _Ashtonn, I love you! - C_ onto the supporting pillar, bright neon letters stark against the rusty red metal of the pillar.

“He can't be serious.” Slowly, Ashton raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Please, tell me I’m dreaming.”

Luke couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. “Sorry, dude, ain’t happening. That’s definitely directed at you.” Luke furrowed his brows. “Eventhough he spelled your name wrong.”

Ashton’s head whipped up, hazel eyes gleaming. “He’s not the best in English, so what?”

Luke raised an eyebrow and Ashton back-tracked with wide eyes. “I mean, I mean, you’re right. That’s…”

Luke laughed. “Yeah, alright. You figure that one out and I’m gonna get a shower. Pick you up for class in thirty.”

Making an obscene kissy noise, Luke left the room and a bemused looking Ashton behind.

*

“See you tomorrow!” Veronica smacked a kiss against his cheek before she disappeared into the girl’s wing of the building. Smiling, Luke waved after her. Then he turned around and skipped up the two flights of stairs to the third floor his room was located on. They had spend a good two hours after their afternoon class in one of the studios students could rent.

Veronica had asked him about extra training lessons this morning during their class by Mr Bailard. The teacher had assigned each of the pairs in class a choreography to have mastered until the end of the week. Though they would easily have been able to learn it in class, Luke wanted it to better than just average. He wanted it to be perfect. That Veronica was as determined as him, left Luke stoked. They had made good progress this day, so he was nothing but happy and sweaty as he trudged down the hallway to his room.

His mood changed in an instant though, when he reached the door to his room, finding a familiar pink-haired boy sitting opposite of it. His head rested back, Michael sat on the floor next to Ashton’s door, his back against the wall, one leg pulled against his chest, the other stretched out, making it easy for pretty much anyone walking by to trip over it and break something. His eyes were closed but fluttered open when Luke came to a halt in front of him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Michael’s impassive face faded into a lazy smile, pale green irides ripping every inch of Luke’s body apart before settling to meet his glare. “Nice to see you again, ballet boy. Don’t worry, I’m not here to get called arsehole by a clueless, stuck-up princess like you again. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Calum is in there?” Luke raised his eyebrows.

Michael’s expression went sour for a split second so Luke knew he was right. Frowning, Luke reached a hand out.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.” Luke wasn’t sure what made him flinch back exactly, if it were Michael’s words, the hand he had wrapped around Luke’s ankle to stop him, pale skin cold against Luke’s still heated-up skin or the distinctive sound of-.

“God, don’t look so scandalised, princess.” Out of the corner of his eye Luke could see Michael get to his feet, leaning his shoulder against the wall, and watch him with an amused smirk. Michael belonged to the people that _smirked_.

 _Disgusting_ , Luke thought, maybe, told himself. 

 

“It’s a cycle. It happens. Mr Holier-Than-Thou will decide Calum isn’t good enough for his pretty arse anymore, they break up, Calum will do something ridiculous, Ashton hunts him down, they argue, they fuck, they have a few good days and then it starts all over again. A cycle.”

Michael yawned at the end of his speech. Luke blinked a couple of times, willing his legs to move and his mind to blank out the chorus of moans and “fuck, Cal, right there”. His throat producing a retching noise, Luke whirled around and walked towards his own door.

Once inside his room, Luke breathed a couple of times, before he dropped his sportsbag to the ground and trudged into the adjacent bathroom. After having thrown his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, he stepped into the shower, looking down at himself with a sigh. He wasn’t a voyeur or into hearing other people have sex, he really wasn’t. It just so happened that he had both seen Ashton and Calum and both were insanely attractive. So it really wasn’t that far off that the thought of them together might have been a little hot. Still Luke was above wanking in the shower, so he just turned the faucet on the coldest setting and fought his semi-boner the physical way. Afterwards he added a little temperature to the water and scrubbed himself clean. He gave himself a short head massage and even used the ridiculously expensive face cleanser his mother had bought him for christmas when he still had suffered from acne.

As soon as he was done he turned the water off and was careful not to slip on the small puddle he created as he stepped out. Humming, he wrapped a towel around his waist and slendered back into his room.

His hand had just breached the knob of his wardrobe, when he was interrupted by a voice. “Oh, don’t let yourself be interrupted by me. Carry on.”

Luke didn’t shriek. He uttered a manly shout. “What the fuck, mate!”

Aghast he stared at the figure sprawled out on his bed, a small pile of Luke’s things, like books and the few knick knacks from his shelves, next to him on the duvet. Michael simpered, mischief bright in his eyes, along with something else Luke couldn’t quite decipher. Uttering a low whistle, the pink-haired boy sat up, let his eyes roam over Luke’s half-naked body in a way that made Luke’s cheeks heat up. “Damn, it’s true what they say about dancers. You _are_ fit.”

“Uhm…” Luke desperately tried to find his composure. “Yeah, yeah, _no_. Leave?”

“Oh, don’t get your towel in a bunch, princess.” Michael stretched his limbs. “I’m about to. Gonna take a couple of hours till they’re done over there anyways. I’m gonna go get pizza.”

The other boy slid off the bed, landing smoothly on his feet. Michael reminded Luke of a kitten, the way he moved smoothly, with intent, categorising everything around him as ulterior by default.

“Have fun.” Luke smiled sweetly. Mumbling, he pulled a jumper to match his skinnies - actual skinny jeans not those ripped insults Calum and Michael were sporting - out of his closet. “Must be fun shoving all that greasy shit into your mouth.”

He was startled by the clatter of one of his books hitting the floor. Luke whirled around to find a scandalised looking Michael staring at him. “You did not just insult pizza.”

Luke crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No, I didn’t. Would be stupid of me to insult something I’ve never tried, wouldn’t it?”

Michael gasped even louder. “You’ve never had pizza?!”

Luke frowned. “No? The cook never made something this unhealthy.”

Michael blinked at him a couple of times, his plump pink lips forming a small o. Then he laid a hand on his hip. “Ballet boy, I really don’t know what I pity you more for. The fact that you have never eaten the best food this planet has to offer or that you come from a family that has a cook.”

Luke wanted to ask what the hell was wrong with having a cook but the other boy didn’t let him interrupt. “Either way, you can be grateful that I am here. Bundle up, princess. I’m gonna show you the finer things in life.”

With that Michael strut out of the room, turning around on the door step. “Well, either you follow me or you stay here for round two... and three... maybe four, Calum had steak this noon.”

“Luke.” Luke said. “My name is Luke.”

“I know, princess.” Michael winked at him, _he winked at him_ and was out the door. Flabbergasted, Luke looked at the empty doorway, looked at himself in the mirror, looked at the clothes in his hands. Cursing, he shimmied into his jeans and pulled the jumper over his head. Once he had managed to slip his shoes on, he started running.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	4. Attitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to nothing but Beyoncé's 'XO' writing this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Luke found himself in the tiniest pizza shop he could have ever imagined. The room was not bigger than his dorm, white tile covering the ground and half the wall. The rest was yellow flower tapestry, matching the mustard colour of the counter separating the room in half. To his outmost surprise, the shop was packed.

"Everybody knows Younes makes the best pizza in the whole Wharf area." Michael explained proudly whilst he elbowing them a way towards the front of the counter.

"That's..." Luke looked around, his gaze being caught by a group of what he supposed to be uni-students, shoving rolled-up pizzas into their mouths. "Is that even hygienic?"

Michael did not dignify Luke's comment with an answer.

The man standing behind it greeted the pink-haired boy with a wide grin and even wider opened arms. "Michael!"

"What's up, Younes?" Laughing, Michael hugged the older man. While the two of them exchanged a few pieces of small talk, Luke surveyed the area behind the counter. Apart from the ovens and containers full of fresh condiments, there was not much to see. With the exception of a single framed picture hanging on the wall, that was. It took Luke a moment to realise it was not so much of a picture than a frayed piece of fabric cut-out, white threat embroidered into leather. After another second Luke realised it was the exact same image that was embroidered onto the back of Michael's leather jacket. A wolf baring his teeth, the letter R scarred into his snout.

After Michael had ordered for the both of them, they were pushed back into the back of the shop. Luke managed to secure himself one of the few chairs scattered around small tables. He let out a surprised gasp when Michael unceremoniously planted himself on his lap.

“Stop making a fuss, princess, I’m not that heavy.”

“I’m-”

“Hush.”

Pouting, Luke crossed his arms in front of his chest, intentionally creating at least a little bit of breathing space between himself and Michael’s admittedly well-shaped back side. Luke had finished examining the tiny, soft hairs in the nape of the other boy’s neck for the third time - time Michael had spent fucking around on his phone and occasionally humming to himself - when the older boy’s name was called out and Younes handed them a transparent plastic bag, two white, slim cardboard boxes inside.

“We are not eating in here?”

“Please, you can’t even breathe in here.” Michael rolled his eyes and kicked the shop door open with his foot.

“Well Mr I-Know-Everything-Better, where are we going to eat then?”

Michael shot him that lazy insolent smirk that always seemed to wait just in the corner of his mouth. “You’ll see.”

*

“Oh, wow.” Luke breathed out, eyes drinking every detail of the stone theater Michael had lead him to, sea water glistening in the light of the lanterns right behind the stage platform.  

“You like it?”

“Yeah.” A bright grin splitting his face in half, Luke stretched his arms out. “Yeah, I love it.”

“Alright, alright, ballet boy. Don’t wet yourself.” Michael slumped down onto the first row beneath them with a huff, but Luke could see the content smile on his face. “So, princess, you ready for a food so good that it will change your life?”

“Mhm.” Luke sat down as well and crossed his legs underneath himself. He eyed the pizza box Michael was holding out for him with a certain scepsis. Luke knew his mother would skin him alive if she could see him now, wasting the night away with a rude, shameless punk kid he had met days ago, eating greasy fast food. Somehow these next words left his mouth nonetheless. “I’m ready.”

“Great. Close your eyes and open your mouth.” Somehow his own sentence made Michael giggle, causing Luke to narrow his eyes before he obliged.

“Hold on, I’m gonna take a picture of this. Here you go.”

Something hot and greasy landed on Luke’s tongue. “Now chew.”

The flash of Michael’s phone blinded him momentarily behind closed lids as Luke closed his mouth.

Michael, Luke had to admit, hadn’t lied. Pizza definitely belonged to the finer things in life.

“Oh my god.” Rolling his eyes into the back of his eyes, Luke let out an obscene groan before he swallowed. “This is delicious.”

Michael positively purred, throwing Luke’s pizza carton into the blonde boy’s lap before opening his own. They munched their pizza in record time, gurgling down the bigger bites with Sprite out of cans Michael had retrieved from the plastic bag. Luke had never eaten more like a pig than he did that night. He had never felt more comfortable while eating.

Afterwards Michael sprawled himself out on the concrete, stretching himself with a content sigh. “Man, that was awesome.”

Luke hummed, pressing the soles of his feet together and wriggling his knees up and down. “I think I like pizza.”

The older boy snorted, opened his eyes a few millimetres to stare up at Luke out of half-lidded eyes. “‘I think I like pizza.’” He mocked Luke in a high-pitched voice.

Luke frowned. “You’re a dick.” Sniffling, he got to his feet.

“Hey, wait! Where are you going?” Jolting into an upright position, Michael watched him as Luke descended the concrete rows. Once the blonde boy had reached the bottom of the theatre he reached his hand out. “You showed me yours, now I’ll show you mine.”

Michael blinked at him a few times. “Princess, I have no idea what that means.” He grinned. “But it sounds sexual so I’m in.”

Michael was down at the stage with a few brave (or stupid, as Luke thought) leaps, flying down the rows several at a time. Shaking his limbs out, Michael came to a halt in front of him.

“What do I need to do?”

“Sit.” Savouring the slight feeling of superiority that spread through his veins as he watched Michael take his order, Luke placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulder and pushed him down.

“Alright.” Michael stretched his legs out, placing his hands a little behind his waist to look up at Luke. “Hit me.”

The crucial thing about ballet, Luke’s old ballet teacher had told him over and over again, was that it had to look effortless. It had to look like the dancer was flying, movements feather-light, feet always hovering a few centimetres over the ground. He knew he was achieving that when he stole quick glances to gauge Michael’s reaction as he whirled around the older boy, leapt and spinned through the cold night’s air. His breath was coming in rugged heaves of air when he ended in an attitude, landing on the toes of right foot. Focussing to keep his balance, he stretched his torso and left leg into a diagonal line. The muscles in his stomach contracted as he slowly tipped over until his face was millimetres away from Michael’s.

“And what do you think?” Luke whispered, letting his breath ghost over the pink-haired boy’s cheeks. The older boy shook his head.

“Luke.” He murmured, wide eyes glazed over. And that was all Luke needed.

Cracking into a grin, he pushed Michael so he fell flat onto his back, poking his tongue out.

“Thought you know my name.”

Michael responded with a frustrated groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “And you call me arsehole.”

Gracefully, Luke lowered himself on both his feet. “Well, you are one.”

“One day, you’re gonna think different.”

“Maybe.” Luke admitted, pulling the other boy to his feet.

Michael smiled at him, the hint of insolence minimal. “Gather your things, princess. I’m gonna bring you back to your castle.”

*

They were walking down the pavement of a tiny backalley. Luke was ducking the punch Michael had aimed at his shoulder, so he didn’t see them at first, ran blindly into Michael’s suddenly frozen figure.

“Fuck shit.” The older boy hissed.

“Michael, what-” Luke fell silent as his eyes settled on the reason why. They weren’t alone in the alleyway, not anymore. Right there, at the other end of the narrow asphalt way three figures had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, male judging by their stature. Luke couldn’t see much more in the darkness but he didn’t need to, to know what Michael’s reaction had meant. Trouble, deep trouble.

“Oh my god, guys!” The middle figure drawled out just in that moment and lifted a hand to point at them. Luke wasn’t sure if he was drunk or that was just his normal accent. Not that it mattered. “Look what I found! Michael Clifford! What does a wharf dog like you do so far out of his territory?”

“Michael!” Luke struggled to keep his voice down. His hands were trembling. The blonde boy was attentive enough to sense the imminent hint of danger in the air. “What do they want?”

“Stay behind me, princess.” Michael’s answer wasn’t much more than a whisper. Then he took a step forward, his head held high.

“No, Michael.” Feeling desperation flood his veins, Luke grabbed the hem of Michael’s jacket, tried to pull him back. “Please, let’s leave. Let’s just leave.”

“You got something to say, Clifford?”

“Michael, please.” Luke begged.

The older boy stopped, his head falling, shoulders heaving. “Fuck!”

“Excuse me, what was that?”

“Suck my dick, Elliott!” Michael all but lilted. Luke didn’t get to see the other boy’s reaction as the next moment Michael had whirled around and was dragging Luke out of the alley.

“Princess, show me how fast exactly your pretty legs can carry you. Run!”

And Luke ran. He ran like he had never run before. Luke could hear the other ones chase after them, their heavy boots resonating loudly on the asphalt, but he didn’t allow himself to think about that. All his energy went into his legs. He would’ve easily been able to run a mile - he was an athlete after all - but was stopped short after they had rounded the upteenth corner, when Michael pulled him to the side, into the short entrance way of an apartment building. Once inside, the older boy pulled the wrought iron gate close after them and pushed Luke into the shadows. Pressing a hand over his mouth, Luke suppressed the wince that threatened to escape his throat as his hip hit the brick wall of the entrance. They both held their breath as whoever they had just met sprinted towards the gate, passed them and sprinted past. Luke was pretty sure his heart stopped beating right then and there.

“What the hell was that?” He asked once he was sure the other boys were gone, causing Michael to just shake his head. His face was still turned towards the gate. Slowly the pink-haired boy reached a hand out and laid it on the handle, pushing it down as quietly as possible. Nothing happened.

“It-”

Michael tried again, pushing the handle down with more force. “It won’t open. Why won’t it open?”

Luke saw a small crease appear between the pink-haired boy’s eyebrows and let his gaze flicker over the door. His stomach flipped. 

“Look at the screen.” Luke tapped onto the source of blue light right above the handle. The computer screen was small, showing nothing but a closed lock, a smiley face and the time five a.m. “We’re locked in here until the morning.”

“Trapped?” Michael’s question was almost silent.

“Trapped.” Luke confirmed. Michael's pupils were dilated, his eyes almost black in the weak moonlight, casting the shadow-pattern of the door onto his face.

And Luke knew it would happen even before Michael moved. Nonetheless he didn't budge, didn't give any kind of resistance when Michael pushed himself off the wall and bridged the space between them with two long strides. Luke uttered a quiet gasp as the older boy shoved him against the wall, trapping Luke with his body, crashing their lips together. Michael’s mouth tasted like mint and nicotine, Sprite and something eternally sweeter. “I’ve never run from a fight before. Why did you make me run away?”

The way Michael kissed him held an almost feral ferocity, making Luke's skin tingle and small jolts of electricity shoot up and down his spine. He knew his lips were swollen and red by the time Michael pulled away after what easily could’ve been hours. “Why did I listen to you?”

The older boy stared at him for only a moment, pupils full-blown by now, lust written all over his face, before he let out a noise that sounded a lot like a growl and flipped Luke around. 

The cold brick of the wall was rough against Luke's cheek but he couldn't bring himself to care when he felt Michael's lips and hands back on him, soft pink strands tickling his ear as the older boy sucked a mark into the crook of his neck.

"Oh my-" A shiver ran through his whole body as Michel shoved his hand into Luke's pants, cold fingers massaging the warm flesh of Luke's arsecheek. Then Michael let his fingers slip past the crease and ran a dry finger over Luke's hole, making the younger boy's hips buck up. Luke whimpered.

"You gotta tell me what you want, ballet boy." Michael murmured into his ear, nibbling on the lobe. 

“Fuck- I... you… fuck.”

The other boy chuckled. “Sure can do. As we're in here anyways, we can also use that time more purposefully.”

Luke whined at the loss of Michael’s hands. He heard the other boy breathe behind him, then the low pop of a lid being opened and the crinkling of foil.

“You came prepared?” Luke asked the wall, his shoulders heaving.

Michael’s answer was simple, the insolent smirk Luke hated clearly prominent in his voice. “I’m always prepared.”

“So you do that often?”

Instead of getting an answer, he was flipped back around.

“You talk too much.” Michael pressed his lips to Luke’s. “But no. They weren’t for me, actually.”

Luke was content with that and nodded, burying his fingers in Michael’s hair and pulling the other boy against him. He could feel Michael grin as he slotted their mouths back together.

Palming Luke's bulge with his left, Michael slipped his hand back between Luke’s cheeks. opening Luke up with now lube-slick fingers. There was no finesse to it, no great skill that Luke was sure the other boy possessed, but he didn’t care. He needed Michael inside him right now, or else he would die, he was sure.

At the third finger, Luke began to grind back. “‘M ready.”

He gasped when Michael crooked his fingers inside him. “You sure?”

And Luke wanted to slap the nasty smile right of the pink-haired boy’s face. In retaliation he unbuckled Michael’s belt with nimble fingers, sneaking his hand into the other boy’s pants and wrapping a tight hand around Michael’s hard cock. Luke had never given anyone else a handjob but he was pretty sure it worked the same way on someone else than it did on him.

He found himself confirmed when Michael sacked forward, against him, with a loud moan. In the next moment the pink-haired boy had caught himself though and forcefully detached Luke’s fingers from his pulsing dick. After having placed both of Luke’s hands on the back of his neck instead, he cupped Luke’s arse and pushed the younger boy up the wall. Luke understood and wrapped his legs around Michael’s waist, holding himself up solely with the strength of his upper thighs as Michael was busy putting the condom on and slicking himself up.

“You sure?” The older boy asked again, once he was ready.

“Sure.” Luke crossed his arms farther, sliding Michael’s head closers towards him. His eyes fluttered shut as the older boy lined himself up. Luke winced into Michael’s mouth when he felt Michael’s head push past the loosened but still tight ring of muscle. He tried to breathe past the burn of the stretch, desperately waiting for the pain to turn into pleasure. Incoherent words bubbled out of his throat while Michael slid in slowly, stilled as soon as his hips met the soft flesh of Luke’s arse. They both took a few moments to adjust.

“How do you feel?”

“Full.” Luke pressed out. “Now move.”

A silent moan escaped Luke's lips when Michael started moving inside him, his head hitting the brick wall with a low thud. He was thankful for the other boy's hands on his trembling thighs, keeping him upright.

"Been thinking about this..." Michael groaned into his neck. "... since you fell right to my feet. And when you danced for me tonight, that was so incredible."

Luke's answer got lost somewhere on the way from his brain to his mouth when Michael snapped his hips up just at the right angle, the head of his cock rasping over Luke's sweet spot, making fireworks explode at the back of his head. Gasping, Luke tightened his grip on Michael's shoulder. "Fuck- fuck."

The rest of his whimpers were swallowed by Michael's mouth. It was well-paced and dirty, how Michael fucked him. Soon enough he detached a hand from Luke’s thigh and buried it in Luke’s hair, tousling sweat-damp strands of blonde hair. Luke smothered the moans and whimpers that bubbled out of him in the leather of the older boy’s jacket when Michael hit his prostate again and again, nothing but their panting and the slapping sound of skin hitting skin sounding in the night. Heat was pooling in Luke’s stomach at a rapid speed and he knew he wouldn’t last any longer than this.

“Michael, I’m- I’m gonna-”

“Come.” Michael breathed into his ear and Luke came, harder than he had ever come before, his untouched cock spilling into the fabric of his briefs. Pure bliss pulsed coursed through him in waves, washing his mind blank. It took the last out of him to keep his legs constricted around Michael’s waist. The older boy rut his hips up a couple more times until he was coming as well, thrusting into Luke as deep as he could, the loud moan he uttered nearly enough to send Luke over the edge again.

*

Michael spread his leather jacket out on the ground after they had pulled up their trousers again. Luke could feel the come dry in his pants and knew how gross and sticky everything would feel tomorrow but right now he couldn’t be arsed to care. His arse itself felt weirdly empty without the filling pressure of Michael’s dick in it. He would rather eat Ashton’s old ballet shoes than admit that out loud though - that and how sore exactly he was. The sting had been memorable when Michael had pulled out. Once they were both clothed again, the pink-haired boy got rid off the condom by tying it and squashing it into someone’s postbox slit.

“Will give them a nice surprise.”

Luke was way too tired and fucked out at this point to comment on that. Thankful for the lukewarm night, he curled in on himself, resting his head on Michael’s jacket. After a few moments, he felt Michael’s warm body press up against him from behind. Luke pretended to be already asleep when Michael licked over the mark that was blossoming in the crook of Luke’s neck, breathing a low “Goodnight, princess.” into his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	5. Releves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I had the worst kind of writer's block after the run of the last two chapters. But now I'm back!
> 
> Enjoy!

Luke was dragged into the paralysing state somewhere in between unconsciousness and clarity by the clinking of metal against metal and hushed voices arguing. He sniffled in his sleep at the unfamiliar sound of voice, blurring with the remnants of his dream, his lids to heavy to be opened.

"What are you even doing in there?"

"Mike in a cage, this is glorious."

"Shut up, and get us out of here. I didn't call you morons to make dumb comments."

"A little bit more gratitude, please. We're committing a house-break for you right now."

"True."

"I swear to god, I'm gonna rip you both a new one and..."

The loud clang of metal being bend out of shape and split made Luke’s toes curl.

"... thank us for being the best bros ever to save your sorry ass in the middle of the night. Freedom for you."

"Thank fuck."

"Who's that?"

The silence following the question was nearly long enough to allow Luke to drift off again.

It was Michael’s voice that pulled him back into half-wakeness. "None of your business. Now go get into the car. We'll be there in a moment."

Luke heard trainers squeak over asphalt and the high tone of a car being unlocked. The next thing he felt was fingertips ghosting over his cheek. Then he was hoisted up, his face swaying in the air before hitting soft fabric, the strong smell of leather making him scrunch up his nose.

The air changed and he was shaken a little bit when Michael climbed into what Luke supposed the back of a van. A slight wince escaped him when his knee hit the edge of one of the sliding doors.

“Shh, it’s alright. Sleep on.” Michael’s voice was soothing, his fingers carding through Luke’s hair. Luke barely managed to gave an affirmative hum, before he passed out again.

*

The next time, Luke woke up to the smell of musk and a warm arm propping his neck up. His face was squished into a pillow, duvet heavy on his body. With a silent groan, he pried his eyes open. Luke was met with the vertical sight of a knackered desktop full of carvings and heaps of clothing strewn over stained, grey carpet. Sunlight was falling through thin, white curtains, the wall behind the desktop plastered with photos and band posters. After having blinked a couple of times, Luke carefully slid off the mattress - Michael’s bed was not an actual bed, just a mattress on the ground with purple sheets and mismatching linens. Once he was sitting on the ground, Luke pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees.

Michael looked even more consummate in his sleep than he did when he was awake. The older boy was lying on his back, one arm still stretched out where Luke had lied on it, the other bent around his head. The duvet had been pushed down to his waist when Luke had moved, exposing his whole upper body. Luke felt his stomach flutter as he let his eyes trail over the older boy’s body. It wasn’t like Luke was clueless of the male body, it was just the first time he saw another boy naked for longer than a few stolen glances in the changing room. And none of the boys at his old school or in ballet class had ever looked as not only fit but also intriguing as Michael did. Not being able to care about the fact that he was ogling, Luke let his gaze wander from Michael’s prominent V-lines, cut off halfway by the duvet, over the older boy’s abdomen to his chest that was steadily moving up and down, defined muscles rippling beneath almost ivory-white skin. Luke had to physically hold himself back in order to not trace the different splatters of ink on Michael’s skin with his finger, or tongue for that matter. Scandalised by his own thoughts - which was hypocritical after what he had done last night, he knew that - Luke pulled himself to his feet. It was then that he realised he was naked, save for a bright green pair of briefs that didn’t belong to him. The thought of how they presumably had ended up on him made him blush. Rubbing his warm cheeks, he tripped his way through the heaps of clothes on the floor, picking up a pair of grey sweats on the way. After having shimmied into them, he carefully pressed down the handle of the door (someone had spray-painted the word ‘Fuck’ on the white-varnished wood) and slipped into a narrow hallway.

Luke was careful to make as less noise as possible when he trudged down the hallway, as he wasn’t quite sure who else lived in this flat. The only thing Luke knew that it probably weren’t Michael’s parents, judging by the graffitis plastering the walls. Luke found himself confirmed when he entered the living room. Sprawled out on the total number of three sofas, two boys sleeping, a third one on the floor. Luke hastily made his way into the kitchen, praying he wouldn’t wake anybody up.

Once inside the kitchen, he made a beeline for the fridge. His throat felt dry and nasty, driving him to the kitchen in the first place.

"If you're looking for water, that's in the shelf next to your head."

Startled, Luke whirled around. He had been sure that he was alone in the kitchen, yet there was another person, sitting at the kitchen table. Why he hadn't notice the girl at first became obvious to him in the next second though. She was tiny, barely visible over the tabletop, not older than three or four, with wide, chocolate-coloured eyes and black curls. Her heart-shaped face was rested on her chubby hands, one fist clutching the spoon she had been previously eating cornflakes with. Her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick some milk out of the corner of her mouth, as she watched Luke with that inquisitive yet uninterested glance only kids were able to pull off.

“I- thank you?”

She smiled at him, showing off sharp little teeth, the left carnassial missing. “You’re welcome.”

Because Luke had no idea what else he could say he shuffled back around to open the cardboard, indeed finding a sixpack of water. After a little struggle with the plastic wrap he finally managed to pull one of the bottles out and clutched it against his chest. He had just turned back around when yet another person entered the room, a familiar this time.

“Zarah, have you eaten your breakfast? We need to go in a couple of- oh.” The man stopped in his tracks, his chocolate-coloured eyes widening before he leaned with his hip against the  back of the kitchen bench, folding his arms over his chest. He was about thirty, his olive skin stark against his pristine white shirt.  One hand came up to stroke over his beard.

“I don’t remember you. You are not a novice, are you? Did one of the other boys take you in?”

“Hi.” Luke said awkwardly, well aware of the fact that he was still topless. He hadn’t understood a word the other man just said, so he decided to approach him the way his parents had taught him to. “My name is Luke. Nice to meet you.” Plus, he already knew something about the man. “You’re Younes, right?”

The man smiled. “Indeed.”

Luke placed a hand on his heart. “I had your pizza last night. Best thing I’ve ever eaten, honestly.”

The man laughed, loud and warm. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“I’m ready, Papa.” The girl, Zarah, proclaimed in the next moment, stretching her chubby arms out, a shriek escaping her lips when she was lifted into the air.

“Somebody was talking about pizza?” All yawning and stretching, another three boys entered the kitchen. One was small and scrawny, with dyed red hair. The other was tall and bulky, hair shaved into a mohawk, one crooked teeth ruining his otherwise flawless set of teeth.

“It’s you.”

The redhead and Mohawk had already flopped down on the kitchen bench when the third boy steered away from the table and came to a halt in front of Luke.

Luke needed a moment to place his face, but when he did, he scowled. “James.”

Luke vividly remembered the feeling of cold liquid dripping down his front.

The other boy grinned, green eyes flashing. “Came back to let me change your pants afterall, I see.”

“Dude, wait, who is that? Who are you?” Suddenly the redhead appeared next to James, eyeing Luke like a hyena eyed its prey.

Luke felt his heart pick up pace, his stomach clenched. “I- I’m-”

“Back off, all of you!” The voice was sharp and clear, leaving no space for disobedience. Looking positively disgruntled, Michael was standing in the doorway, clad in a ratty old bandshirt and black boxers, growling at what Luke supposed to be his friends. Luke hadn’t quite figured out whatever was going on with the people around him. To his surprise both boys obeyed within a heartbeat though, taking several steps back, the redhead’s expression turning curious, James’s into a displeased scowl.

Luke didn’t miss the small huff James let out before he raised his hands and plastered the same friendly smile on his face, he had fooled Luke with the first time they had met.  “Don’t lose your shit, Michael. We were just playing.”

“Speak for yourself.” The redhead - Luke decided that he was intelligent - was quick to add, slumping back down next to Mohawk who watched the scene in silence.

“Shut up, both of you. Go wake the others and make sure Ty is awake. He’s runner today.” Rubbing a hand over his face, Michael bridged the few metres between them, laying his arm around Luke’s shoulder and splaying his fingers out on his chest once they were next to each other. The gesture was small, but effective.

Luke couldn’t help but relax and lean into the touch.

“So he belongs to you.” Younes said to Michael, once the other boys had scrambled out of the room, none of them meeting Michael’s stern gaze on the way out. The older man didn’t seem fazed in the least by the exchange that had just taken place.

“He does.”

Luke kept his eyes on the ground, willing the blush to leave his cheeks.

“Alright then. I need to drop Zarah off at her mother’s. You manage the boys?”

“Sure, will do.”

Once they were alone, Luke felt the tension leave his body, his knees becoming all wobbly.

“You alright? I think you went green there for a moment.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“My god, princess, you dance like a god but you sure as hell can’t lie for shit. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Luke’s breath stuttered for a moment, when Michael changed his position and crowded him against the kitchen counter, placing his hands next to each side of Luke’s waist, his light green eyes mesmerising in the unfiltered sunlight falling in through the kitchen window.

“It’s nothing.” Luke didn’t even convince himself.

“Liar.” Michael scooted closer, their kneecaps touching. The older boy’s breath was hot against Luke’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. Just when Michael’s lips touched the sensitive skin, Luke caved, ducking away. “Fine, fine. I got scared, okay?”

“By James and Max?” Michael’s voice sounded more than incredulous which honestly didn’t make Luke feel any better.

“I don’t know their names but if you’re talking about the people that just left, then yes, them.”

Michael laughed. “Oh, ballet boy, don’t be.”

“Yeah, you say that so easily. They weren’t looking at you like that!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Luke ran a hand through his hair. “Like… like something to eat or I don’t know.”

Michael’s expression went earnest. “Princess, none of the people inside this place will harm you.”

“How do you know that?”

A slow smile spreading over his lips, Michael raised a hand, ran his thumb over Luke’s cheek. “Because none of them would be stupid enough to disrespect my claim.”

Before Luke had any chance to comment on that statement, or even process it, Michael was dragging him out of the kitchen, past the now bustling living room, down the hallway and back into his room.

The moment Luke’s arse hit the mattress, positively making him wince out in pain as his arse was still sore as hell, Michael was on him, rolled himself on top of Luke and deepened their kiss, their lips barely detaching whenever they broke for air. It wasn’t until Luke was alarmed by the familiar tone of his phone announcing an incoming message, that the blonde boy remembered the world outside the closer proximity of, well, Michael.

“Shit, fuck.” His eyes grew wide as he stared at the phone screen, not only finding over a dozen missed calls and seventeen text messages (all from Ashton inquiring his whereabouts in different states of capitalisation and the usage exclamation points) but also the time.

“What’s up?” Michael asked, clearly discontent with the lack of response Luke was giving him.

Cursing, Luke shoved the other boy off of him and buried his face in his hands. “It’s Tuesday and my class has started a good ten minutes ago. My teacher is gonna rip my head off.”

Michael blinked a couple of times before he shrugged. “You sure you wanna go at all then? Why not take the whole day off while you’re at it? Stay here in bed, with me. I was actually thinking we'd go for round two.”

Luke couldn’t do much else than frown at the sly smile Michael was shooting at him. “No. No, that’s not possible. I need to get to school, like… ten minutes ago. I can’t skip class.”

The older boy leveled him for a few moments, before he scrambled off the mattress and to his feet with a sigh, offering Luke a hand once he was standing.

“Alright, princess, whatever you want. Go and look if you find something to wear in here.”

“Where are you going?”

Michael smiled at him and tapped his head. “Helmets. I’m gonna drive you to school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	6. Adage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But have you heard the SLSP version sung by Michael?

"You definitely should wrap your arms around my waist, for safety measures and all that."

Luke was way too busy counting his blessings to listen to a word Michael was saying. Trying to control the trembling of his limbs, he climbed onto the motorcycle - because apparently there was not one thing on his mother’s list of things she never would allow Luke to do Michael didn’t manage to offer him.

Once Luke had settled on the backseat, he placed his feet where Michael had told him to and slung his arms around the older boy's waist. "Hold tight."

There really was no need for the older boy to be worried. Luke didn't plan to let go for a while. His head was heavy from the helmet, the visor shrinking his vision to the back of Michael's neck, his cheeks squished together by the padding. A low shriek escaped him when Michael pushed them off the curb, causing Michael to laugh and yell a not very convincing "Don't worry, princess!" over his shoulder.

If someone would’ve told Luke a week and a half ago that he would find himself on the back of a motorcycle, clinging to a leather-jacket wearing punk with bad temper and an even worse hair-colour, Luke would've laughed. Now, however, he was way to busy screwing his eyes shut when the engine roared to life beneath him.

"Ready?" Michael's voice was slightly muffled by the padding of his helmet. He had closed his visor now.

"No!" Luke yelled back.

The motorcycle surged forward and onto the streets, seamlessly passing between two cars.

Michael, to say the least, exceeded Luke's expectations. He was an even more reckless driver than Luke had thought. They didn't stop once, no redlight red enough, no gap between moving cars too small for the pink-haired boy. Luke’s stomach flipped more times that he could’ve counted.

By the time they arrived on the concrete court in front of the school building, Luke's fingers and thigh muscles were cramping. His cheeks were wet where fright-induced tears had escaped his eyes.

"Luke." The younger boy felt fingers petting the back of his hands.

"Yes?"

"We’re standing. You have to let go now."

"Oh."

Shooting the pink-haired boy a dopey smile, hidden by the helmet, Luke detached himself from Michael. He was careful to climb off the motorcycle without toppling over. His worries had been useless in the first place though, because the moment Luke landed, his knees a bit wobbly, Michael was there to secure him.

"You alright?" There was that goddamn smirk again.

"Fine. Just..." Luke plastered a smile onto his face. "Perfect." He cleared his throat. "Thank you for giving me a ride and all."

"From all the things I did give to you." Michael looked into the distance for a moment, letting out a sigh, before turning back to him with twinkling eyes. "You've chosen the ride. I see you, ballet boy. I see you."

And then, with a wink and a precise slap to Luke's arse that was enough to make him gasp and his sore muscles throb, Michael was putting his helmet back on and kicking the motorcycle to a start. Luke jumped back, barely quick enough to be in the middle of the circle the older boy drove. After that Michael steered off the yard.

"Show-off." Luke mumbled, but it came out more as an endearment. He was fully aware of that.

*

Needless to say Mr Bailard was less than amused when Luke stumbled into the studio more than half an hour late.

"Ah, Mr Hemmings! Delightful to see you today! Did you make it out of bed okay?"

"I'm very sorry, sir."

"No." Mr Bailard raised a hand to shush him. Luke clamped his mouth shut. "We will talk about that after class. Now go and get warmed up. And know Veronica is now missing out on every practise time she would've gotten if you had made it here on time."

Luke shot an apologetic look to the petite red-haired girl who shrugged her shoulders at him and smiled in a "no biggie" way.

Luke mouthed her a quick _Thank You_ , then hurried to the barre. He pointedly ignored Dakota and his two lemmings snickering, as he started doing his plies.

*

The twins joined him and Ashton for lunch. Luke's ears were still ringing from the lecture Mr Bailard had given him. The teacher only had let him go after the third time he had assured he had understood the importance of punctuality. Luke was determined to not disappoint again. 

They got salads at a supermarket and walked the five minutes down to the harbour.

Ashton hadn’t lied. When they arrived at the harbour promenade, most of the picnic tables were already packed with other dancers from their school, the plain shirt, trackies, toms combination giving them away.

Luke hadn’t gotten the first bite of mache, when olive-skinned hands came up to cover Ashton’s eyes and Luke was pushed against Veronica, with whom he was sharing his bench, by another body that slumped down next to him.

“Hi.” Ashton giggled once he had lifted Calum’s hands from his face, greeting the other boy with a kiss. Ashton had acquired this new glow, Luke had noticed, since his relationship status with the raven-haired boy had switched from off to on. Calum who, some time between the the last time Luke had seen him and right now, had turned into an ebony-eyed, over-excited puppy, beamed as he sat down, Victoire making space with an unfazed impression, her eyes glued to her phone. Not a moment later, the two boys were making out again, their breathing breaks filled with “How are you?” and “Missed you.” and “You taste like French dressing.”

Feeling his cheeks heat up at the sight, Luke averted his eyes to the side, flinching when he met Michael’s gaze fixed on him. The older boy’s eyebrows were slightly raised, his look almost expectant. When Luke didn’t do anything but smile, his impassive expression went sour. Luke wanted to ask what was wrong but the other boy had already turned back to the table, devoting himself completely to his sandwich.

“We should add another thirty minutes to our private practise tomorrow.”

“Hmm?” Luke blinked, swaying his glance away from Michael's profile and towards the twin beside him.

Veronica smiled at him. “Because you were late today.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that again.”

“Meh, it’s alright. We all overslept away at some point.” She winked at him. “Anyways, we should add another thirty minutes tomorrow. Focus on the Adage more.”

Luke nearly flinched when he felt a hand wrap around his kneecap. He whirled his head around to look at the boy next to him but Michael was still completely focussed on his lunch.

“You know that one bit where I do a petit jetés away from you?”

“Mhm.” Luke shifted. The hand didn't leave its place. Luke met Veronica’s questioning gaze with a small smile and a nod. The hand wandered up his thigh causing Luke’s skin to prickle with sensation where it was touched.

“And you do the two big leaps before we fall into synchro again?”

Fingernails dragged over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, rubbing a spot where the fabric of his trackies was all rubbed up.

“Y-yes?”

“Well, I was thinking we should rehearse that again…”

He nearly jumped when the hand shot upward, giving his dick a firm squeeze.

Nearly falling backwards over the bench, he got to his feet. "I'm gonna go to the toilet real quick! Be right back!"

He was glad Calum and Ashton were way too busy snogging each other’s faces off to notice anything, along with Victoire who was furiously texting. Veronica shot him confused look but called an “Alright!” after him nonetheless. He prayed she hadn’t glanced anywhere near his crotch.

It took a lot out of Luke not to start running the moment his legs were free. Focussing on his breathing, he power-walked to the mushroom-shaped building a little down the promenade, that held lavatories. Once inside the men’s room he sprinted to the sinks, letting cold water rush over his hands, hoping it would cool down the thoughts in his head.

“I’m sorry. Did I bother you?”

Angry, but not startled, and a lot embarrassed, Luke whirled around, glaring at the pink-haired boy leaning against the door, looking at Luke with that goddamn smirk.

"What the fuck was that for?"

Michael didn't seem fazed in the least. “No clue, what you’re talking about.”

“You damn well know that!” Willing the heat in his cheeks to go away, Luke gestured at his lap. “You’re responsible for this!”

“Oh, you mean your half-hard dick.” Michael simpered, lifting two fingers to stroke along his chin. "In that case I have to change my question a little bit.” The older boy cleared his throat, his voice mocking when he spoke up again. “I don't know, what was it for?"

Luke furrowed his brows. “How do you mean?”

He watched as Michael walked over to him, leaned his hip against the sink. His pale green irides were gleaming in the uncomfortably bright ceiling light, piercing Luke and nailing him down as he tilted his chin upwards.

"Princess, I'm very lenient with a lot of shit, but if you want this to be some kind of secret sex fantasy then know that I ain't here for it."

"I- what?"

The older boy crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Either you kiss me in front of your friends or you're not kissing me at all."

"I- I'm sorry, what?” Luke didn’t understand. “I don't..."

"You don't what?"

Luke felt himself shrink underneath Michael's intent gaze. "I don't know what you want from me? W-what have I done wrong?"

The older boy snorted. "Don't fucking lie to me. I get it if you're not into PDA but you could've at least, I don't know..." Michael's tone made it very clear that he did know. "... looked at me, maybe? And not pretend in front of your fancy ballet friends that I don't exist? Because frankly I've witnessed how that plays out and I have enough dignity to not go through that myself. So again, either you kiss me in front of your friends or you're not kissing me at all. Choose now. It will save us both a lot of time and energy."

Luke felt his lungs deflate, felt his chest grow tight. "I'm sorry, Michael. I don't-"

"You don't what?" This time, Luke could tell, Michael was angry when he repeated his question.

Luke lifted his hands in defense. "I don't know. I- I didn't mean to do something wrong. I'm really sorry. It's just that I've never been in a relationship or whatever before, okay? I don't know how to act and I don't know what I want either, or what you want from me right now to be honest, I just _don't_ -"

Oh god, he was tearing up. He hated it. Luke hated that he wasn't able to deal with conflicts. Hastily he moved around, hiding his face from the other boy. It didn’t help the heaving of his shoulder though.

"Hey, no, shit, no, stop crying, please. I didn't know that, okay? You should have told me that!"

Luke sniffled, fighting for some kind of composure. "Sorry." He told the bottom-plug of the basin.

"Oh, princess." And then he was spun around and wrapped up in dry skin and the smell of leather, shower gel and boy underneath that. "Alright, yeah?"

Michael tipped Luke's head up, pressing their lips together. Luke smiled when they pulled apart. "Yeah. Sorry."

Michael looked down, intertwining their fingers. "If you need it, we can take time, I guess. Figure out what we are exactly. And we don't have to be public for now or something. Just remember that I won't ever let myself be closeted. That's important for me to let you know. So if we're a thing, you have to stand by it, eventually. Okay?"

Luke nodded. "Okay." He smiled, wiping his eyes. "Thank you."

Michael grinned. "Ah, no problem, princess." Luke felt a slight tingle in his stomach when the older boy leaned in, slotted their mouths back together.

"As long as you remember I'm the only one who get's to tap that fine arse of yours, we're cool." Michael's voice was laced with humour, but Luke didn't miss the sharp undertone beneath it.

He grinned. “Sure will do.”

And because sometimes, Luke could be reckless as well, he took Michael’s hand on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	7. Cabriole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for the last scene is The Pretty Reckless's 'Heaven Knows'.
> 
> Enjoy!

In one swift motion Luke lifted his leg into the air, pushing himself off the ground with the muscles in his remaining foot. He landed with his feet in the open fourth position, keeping his breathing steady. Sweat was running down the back of his neck, small beads dripping down the sides of his face, his shirt soaked through. Kicking one leg quickly to the side, he leapt from the ground again, bringing his other leg up to meet the first one mid-air. Cabrioles were one of the most complicated jumps in ballet, and a crucial part of the current choreography he was practising.

In rhythm with the bassline of his music, Luke threw his head around, locking his eyes on his fix point again and again as he swiveled across the room, back to his starting point, in a row of flawlessly executed pirouettes.

He ended with one knee on the ground, the other bent in a ninety degree angle, his arms stretched out in a semi-circle. The last tones of the song ended and Luke pulled himself to his feet, heaving a few breaths into his burning lungs before he scampered over to the stereo. He was content when he saw the time on his phone. It was eight in the evening now. He had started at six.

The choreography he had practised was part of the Coda of their new assignment. Their old, Veronica and Luke had presented yesterday. Mr Bailard had been pleased with their performance, but not over the moon. Luke knew they could've done better, he could've done better. So he had booked one of the studios for tonight, even though it was Saturday. Ashton had originally planned to join him, but then Calum had popped up to take him to the movies.

This left Luke to dance alone, but he didn't mind at all. It was way easier to focus that way and not get distracted into chattering with his friend.

After having plucked his phone off the stereo, he trudged over to his bag, unlocking the screen while walking. Finger hovering over his contacts, he looked at himself in the mirror, looked at the phone, wiped the sweat of his nose with his free hand. Eventually he decided, he might as well, and opened a new message.

 

To: Bad Influence

Status: Sending

Do you want to hang out tonight?

 

To: Princess <3

Status: Delivered

sure thing, ballet boy. ;)

 

Luke spent a good twenty seconds staring at the winking smiley before he shook himself out of it and tapped a reply. Meanwhile he shouldered his bag and exited the studio.

 

To: Bad Influence

Status: Sending

Cool. When?

 

By the time Michael’s reply came, Luke had reached the door to his room, fumbling for his keycard.

 

To: Princess <3

Status: Delivered

how about right now?

 

Luke missed the handle, crashing full-force against his door. Panicking he took a few steps back and surveyed the hallway. It was empty save for him, which meant...

Pressing down the handle this time, Luke pushed open the door to his room. With a sigh he flicked on the lights.

And indeed, all fours stretched out, Michael was sprawled out on Luke’s bed, lifting only his head upon Luke’s entry. There was a different pile of nicked things that belonged to Luke next to him this time, along with the remote for Luke’s flatscreen and a keycard, Luke was pretty sure had been formerly placed in the top drawer of his desktop.

“Thank god, you’re finally here. There’s only crap on TV.”

Fighting to keep the smile of his face, Luke leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “This actually qualifies as burglary.”

“Not quite, actually.” Michael sat up, waving a hand, haughty smile in place. “As I am not stealing anything, it merely counts as trespassing. Only gets you a reprimand and a request to not do it again, really.”  

Luke wouldn’t even think about how Michael might have come to such knowledge. He rubbed a hand over his face, cringing at the sticky feeling of his skin. “Alright, then. I’m gonna take a shower. Just do whatever you’ve done for the past…”

“... hour.” Michael furrowed his brows and Luke felt something inside him melt. Michael had waited an hour to surprise him. He was busy fighting off the butterflies that danced in his stomach, so he nearly missed Michael’s next words.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Michael grinned. “I asked if you want me to join?”

“Oh.” Luke’s cheeks heated up as if on cue. “Uh, yes, no, next time, maybe? I’m very sweaty and gross, right now, I mean-”

Luke’s rumbling was cut off by Michael’s laugh. “It’s alright, princess. I’m just gonna wait here. Nothing you don't want, yeah?"

Luke shoot him a thankful look in response and trudged into the bathroom. He showered as quickly as possible, scrubbing himself clean in record time. Once he had washed all the shampoo out of his hair, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower.

Some Drake video was playing on TV by the time he returned into the main room. Luke could feel Michael's gaze on his body as he scampered over to his dresser and exchanged his towel for a pair of sweats and fluffy socks.

Afterwards he placed the pile of his belongings on the desktop - Luke would put all the things back later. Then he flopped down on top of the older boy with a slight giggle, straddling Michael’s waist, splaying his fingers out on the pink-haired boy’s jumper-clad chest.

“Mhm.” Michael looked up at him out of half-lidded eyes.

“Hi.” Luke beamed at him.

“Nice socks.”

“Thanks.” Luke wriggled his toes against Michael’s naked ankles. “I bought them in a pair of three. You can have a spare pair, if you want?”

Michael blinked at him a couple of times, before his expression changed into something completely else, Luke wasn’t able to decipher.

“You’re something else, princess.” The older boy mumbled as he brought one hand up to cup Luke’s face, thumb running over his cheek. Willingly, Luke let himself be pulled down.

Michael didn’t kiss him right away, placed open-mouthed kisses on his clavicles first. His hands  were tracing the bumps of Luke’s spine, making the younger boy shiver. Inhaling deeply, Luke buried his face in the crook of Michael’s neck, whimpering away as he felt the blood vessels pop beneath his skin. By the time Michael was done with him, Luke sported a crown of seven marks on his chest.

“Damn, I really do hope any of my shirts will be able to cover this.”

Michael just gave a growl in response, tightened his grip on Luke’s upper arm. A low shriek escaped Luke’s lips when Michael rolled them around so it was now him on top, pinning Luke’s wrists on to the mattress, next to his head.

“Don’t cover them up.” The older boy whispered before pressing their lips together. “Let them see. Let them all see.”

It was hard to focus on any coherent thought when Michael’s lips were this close to his. Nonetheless, Luke managed an answer. “No, I can’t. Not yet.”

Pale green irides met his icy blue ones for only a split second, then the older boy was nosing along his jaw, his breath ghosting over Luke’s throat, hands roaming down his sides. “Your pace, I know. Eventually.”

“Eventually.” Luke confirmed, gasping when Michael’s hand slipped past his waistband, stroking over the spot where Luke’s leg met his hip. Involuntarily Luke bucked his hips up, causing Michael to smile slyly. In the next moment the older boy pulled his hand back while lifting his own hips up. He kissed Luke’s cheek once, then flipped the younger boy onto his stomach.

“You have any stuff here?”

“Bedside table, top drawer.”

“Naughty.” Mischief and something that resembled pride were prominent in Michael’s voice. The mattress dipped down when he slid off the bed. Luke couldn’t quite prohibit himself from sneaking glances as the older boy shed his clothes. Hungrily, Luke took in the sight of a stark naked Michael, the defined muscles of his back and small curve of his ass, his tattoos and bright hair. _Consummate._

Hastily, Luke pressed his eyes shut when Michael turned to the side. He could hear the noise of the drawer being opened, and the rustling of foil. It made Luke’s body quiver with excitement and fear, which was stupid, he knew that. They had done this before. Hell, it was obvious Michael had done this many of times. But what had happened in the entrance way had also happened in the dark. The soft yet bright gleam of Luke’s ceiling light didn’t really leave much shadows to hide in.

Nonetheless Luke did his best to not let any of his self-doubts show when Michael finally returned to the bed, pushed Luke’s legs apart and settled in between them.

Luke had been right with assumption he had made that night in the entrance way. Michael did possess great skill when it came to opening him up. By the time Michael was using three fingers to stretch him open, Luke was a whimpering mess, his hands fisted in the sheets, sweat mixing with tears of overstimulation on his face. Michael had folded himself over his back, whispering sweet encouragements into his ear and from time to time, slot their mouths together.

“You know, I could make you come like this.” Michael murmured against his ear lobe when Luke asked him for release, biting down on the soft flesh, the same moment he crooked his fingers inside Luke.

The blonde boy writhed, stretching his neck to meet the other boy’s gaze. “Now… please. Michael, please- please.”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

Luke groaned into his pillow when Michael finally replaced his fingers with his cock, pushed in in languid movement. “Okay?”

“Yes, yes. Move, I beg you to move.” Luke wasn’t quite sure when exactly he had lost his last bit of restraint. Michael didn’t seem to mind, though. He whispered sweet nothings into Luke’s ear. “So good for me. So ready and good for me, huh, baby?”

A relieved whine pushed its way up Luke’s throat when the older boy began to bottom out.

Luke smiled when Michael intertwined the fingers of their respective left hands, smiled as Michael, blissfully slow and steady, pounded into him for what felt like hours.

*

“Calm down, Max, I’ll be there in twenty. No, no, Cal’s out. Yes, with Ashton.”

Luke drowsily pried his eyes open, the flickering light of the TV screen blinding him momentarily. He was still lying in his bed, the duvet loosely thrown over his body. Michael had done it, Luke realised, as the pink-haired boy had left the bed, to now stand in the middle of Luke’s room, tying the laces of his boots and talking on the phone at - Luke tipped his head to look at the alarm clock on his bedside table - three am?

“Call him that again and I show you how much a whipping can actually hurt. Yeah, I’m serious.”

Once he was done, Michael pulled himself into an upright position and shimmied into his leather jacket.

“Whatever. No, let them sleep. Take the novice, Sahin was his name? He hasn’t had his first tour yet, right? Good, then it might as well be tonight.”

Michael jammed the phone between his shoulder and head as he fumbled for his keys.

“Max, are you kidding me? Then just give him somebody else’s bike, the fuck do I care! We’ll meet at the pizza shop in fifteen and you will both be there, with an engine underneath your worthless asses and the backpacks.”

Luke hastily closed his lids when Michael turned towards the bed, schooled his breathing into a slow, deep rhythm. Soft lips pressed against his cheek, followed by the low creaking of steps away from the bed.

“Yes, I’m on my way. No, it’s none of your business where I’ve been. And it’s just a normal run. So don’t wet yourself.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Luke listened to how Michael pushed the handle down quietly. “No guns.”

The door fell shut behind the older boy with a thud. Silently, Luke clasped a hand over his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	8. Grande Battement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick af and failed my driving test today which fortunately put me in a bad enough mood to write this. It's nearly sad that my creativity always peaks at my lowest. *coughs* Anyways, where was I? Yes! 
> 
> Disclaimer: A homophobic slur is mentioned in this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Luke ran. Luke ran the way he had been trained to run. Breathing in through his nostrils, he let the used air stream out through his mouth, forced his pulse to stay low as long as possible. He rolled his heels with every step, using his shin muscles as well as the ones of his ankles. Nothing but the thundering of his feet against concrete resonated against his skull. along with the deafening noise of his music. Soon he lost all feeling of time, just kept running through street after street, his next checkpoint always the next street lantern.

He only stopped when, eventually, the world around him blurred and his lungs shrinked, refused to work any further. Wheezing, he collapsed onto the next park bench, checking the time on his pulse monitor.

Panic spread through his body as the small screen of the watch lit up. It was way after midnight. The gates of the housing complex had closed a good twenty minutes ago. Not to mention the fact that even if he managed to catch the last bus, the way home would take him more than an hour.

Luke cursed and pulled his phone out of the case strapped around his upper arm. He plucked the earphones out before scrolling through his messages. Once he had found the contact he'd been looking for, he pressed the call button, lifting the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

Luke winced at the cold tone to the voice. Nervously, he chewed on his lip.

"Hey, Calum? I know this is weird, but uhm can-can I ask you a favour?"

*

Luke's body was cooled down more than what could be called comfortable by the time the black Yamaha rolled onto the cobblestone ground in front of the fountain Luke had spent the past twenty minutes admiring. The basketball shorts and sleeveless vest had been nearly too warm when Luke had started jogging in the lukewarm evening air. Now he was shivering, the feeling in his fingers gone for a couple of minutes already.

"T-thank god!" He pressed out through chattering teeth as he approached the motorcycle. His heart sank, however, when the driver pulled off his helmet, revealing a thatch of bubblegum pink, not raven, hair.

Michael stared at him for a few moments before he averted his gaze with a huff and climbed off the motorcycle in order to retrieve the second helmet from the trunk underneath the seat. It stung, being punished with silence by the older boy like this.

Luke couldn't really blame Michael though. It had been two weeks since they had last seen each other. Two weeks in which Luke had ignored every call, left every text unreplied and had even ran into the opposite direction the two times Michael had showed up at school. Even Calum's unsubtle attempt at a subtle inquiry, Luke had blocked.

Michael closed the seat trunk construction with a loud _thunk_ that nearly made Luke flinch. Then he stalked over to where Luke was standing, sized Luke up with piercing green eyes before dropping the helmet to the ground with a sigh and a "Fuck, Luke."

Luke wanted to ask what was going on but he was cut short by Michael pulling the zipper of his leather jacket down with a rasp and them the fabric being pushed into his hands.

"Here take it before you freeze to death. Your fucking lips are blue." Michael didn't look at him while he spoke, just turned back around after and walked back to the motorcycle.

"T-thanks." Luke managed. In case Michael had heard him, he didn't let it show, just put his helmet back on instead. Luke hurried to do the same. He picked the spare helmet off the ground once he had slipped into the fantastic, soft and heavy warmth of Michael's jacket.

Luke allowed himself a few deep inhales of Michael's scent. It was stupid and kind of masochistic, Luke knew that, but he couldn't help it. He had missed it. The scent of musk and boy and leather. He had missed Michael's intent, piercing gaze on him, obscured by the visor of his helmet at the moment. Luke had missed Michael, truth be told. And he shouldn't. "No guns."

Michael was more than the oh so different yet fascinating boy Luke had just so happened to let his head turned 'round by. Michael was dangerous, in the most non-romantical sense of the word. And Luke really should stay away. He needed to stay away.

The engine of the motorcycle came to life with a roar and Luke hurried squeezed the helmet over his head.

Michael's driving style hadn't changed. By the time they were coming to a halt in front of the apartment building, Luke was bathed in cold sweat. He had successfully managed to leech some body heat off of the older boy while he had clung to him, but the cold was still in his bones, made him quiver as Michael pushed open the front door. The stairwell was dark and Luke didn't have much more than the almost fluorescent glow of Michael's hair to not topple over every second step. Loud, tinny sounding explosions and real laughter greeted them when they entered the flat.

"Ayo, Michael!"

"Michael, just in time for the grand finale."

"Hurry up, dude, you're missing your favourite part!"

There were a good of over ten boys lounging in the living room, either piled onto the three sofas or sprawled out on the ground. Most of them were about Luke's age, several younger.

Luke recognised some of the faces. There was Max with his flaming red hair, sharing the middle couch with his friend Mohawk and another boy Luke didn't know. On the ground, nearest to the TV, James won a humongous cushion. A boy not older than fourteen had his head rested on his knee. And Calum, of course, occupying a whole sofa on his own. The mocha-skinned boy guiltily cast his eyes down when Luke raised an eyebrow at him.

“Michael, I need you for a moment.” This voice came from the kitchen. Younes, Luke thought.

Still not meeting his gaze, Michael turned towards him. “You can go to my room. Put some clothes on, get warm. I’ll be there soon.”

Because there was not really another option than to obey, Luke nodded and made a beeline for the narrow hallway. Michael’s room hadn’t changed either, had gotten maybe a bit messier if that was even possible. Not that Luke cared right now.

Alternating between uttering expletives and thanking all the deities he could name, Luke bounced from heap to heap, plundering two pairs of sweats, a t-shirt, and a heavenly thick jumper in total. He had just managed to shimmy into the second layer of bottoms when the door opened and Michael stepped in, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot before trudging over to his desktop and flopping down on the chair.

The older boy gave him a swift once-over, then, finally, met his eyes. “You feel better yet?”

Hastily, Luke nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Michael nodded as well, a minimal tilting of his head.

“So you wanna tell me why you spent the last two weeks pretending that I don’t exist?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Luke shifted under his stern gaze. This was it, then. And because couldn’t think of anything else to say (and he was a fucking idiot), he said _everything._

“Why did you leave in the middle of the night when we last saw each other?” Luke blurted. “And what is a run? Why do you need guns? And who are all these people outside? Are you part of some kind of gang or something? Oh my god, are you a drug dealer? As far as I can see, Younes is the only adult around here, so I guess this is his place. Why do you live here? Where are your parents?”

Michael blinked at him, his mouth shaped a small o. A few beats of silence passed, then the older boy’s jaw clenched, along with his fists, and he looked down, lips distorting into a humourless smile. “Oh.”

“Oh.” Luke parroted.

Michael’s head whipped up, his intent gaze ripping Luke apart. “I suggest you sit your pretty arse down, princess, because this, in marked contrast to your aforementioned arse, is not going to be pretty at all.”

And in an instant Luke regretted that he had opened his mouth. There was no going back now, though. Heart pounding against his ribcage, he flopped down on Michael’s mattress, folding his legs underneath himself. “Tell me.”

“You want the truth, yeah?”

Luke nodded, sliding his teeth across his bottom lip. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Michael’s gaze lost intensity, become more dull instead. Luke knew Michael wasn’t seeing him or the room anymore when the older boy spoke up. “To answer your last question first, 6 Hannah Street, Penrith NSW 2119. That’s where my parents live. Well, I suppose they do. Haven’t seen them in…” Michael’s eyes swayed down. The older boy didn’t blink, his eyes staying glazed over. “A little over six years now. Wow, a third of my life.”

Luke wanted to ask so many questions but kept silence. He knew Michael would answer them anyway.

“‘Get out of my house. Can’t have a fucking faggot for a son. Should have strangled you with my own hands when I had the chance!’” Michael’s pupils constricted as he impersonated what Luke supposed to be his father. A moment later Michael shook his head and his gaze cleared, was sharp as razors again when he met Luke’s eyes. “My dad wasn’t particularly fond of my choice in partners, as you might imagine. Kicked me out when I was twelve and stupid enough to tell him and my mother. Was better this way though. Lest I would’ve stayed there and had to hide who I really am.”

 _Just remember that I won’t ever let myself be closeted._ God, it made so much sense now. Luke wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull the older boy into his arms, but he wasn’t sure Michael would let him. The older boy kept rubbing a spot on his knee as he continued. “Younes found me three months later.”

“How did you survive three months on your own?” Luke blurted. “I mean, haven’t you said you were twelve?”

“Trust me, ballet boy.” Michael smiled at him, close-mouthed. “You don’t wanna know.”

Michael was right. On a second thought, Luke didn’t. “Okay, uhm sorry. Please, continue.”

Michael nodded and obliged. “Younes found me three months later.” He started over. “Took me in, gave me food, gave me clothes and enrolled me back in school. I was the first one.” This time, Michael’s smile was filled with pride. “The first Renegade.”

The older boy rolled the desktop chair he was perched on a few centimetres to the side, in order to tap with his toe on the emblem embroidered into the back of his leather jacket that Luke had carelessly dropped to the ground. “Quite a dramatic thirteen year-old, I was. But it stuck, the name and the logo. Renegades, that’s what we became known as. That is what you call my gang and I call my family is known as.”

“So you are actually part of a gang?” Luke couldn’t quite help the disbelieving tone to his voice. Much like he couldn’t help the fact that he hoped Michael’s answer would be no. He was disappointed though.

“If you want to see it that way. Yes, Luke, I am part of a gang.”

And should Luke’s parents ever find out about this, they would kill him. Shoot him and bury his separated body in the woods. Just for breathing the same air as someone like Michael. Someone in a gang. When exactly had his life become an obscure teenage soap opera?

“Oh my… oh my god, and you are their leader, right? Because they all do what you say.”

“No!” Michael’s answer came out sharper than probably intended because a second later he added much softer. “No, I’m not.”

Luke didn’t let himself be deterred. “But like second in command? After… Younes, because he’s the oldest and it’s his flat and he has taken you in and basically been your father?”

Michael looked away. Luke’s head was spinning. “So all these boys outside, they are… they are…”

“They are like me.” Michael supplied, lips pursed. “Well, most of them. The novices are here because they want it. We’re the most powerful group in the wharfs, so.” The older boy waved his hand. “Everybody wants a place on the winning team.”

It was then that Luke realised Michael still hadn’t answered a specific part of his question vomit. “So what is it that you do? What is a run?”

Michael shrugged. “A run is a run, except that we don’t actually, you know, run. We use motorcycles.”

Luke furrowed his brows. “Okay, let me word this different. What exactly is it that you do?”

Michael’s expression turned impassive. “We transport... things.”

“What things?”

“Things. Stuff. Just things. Distribute them”

Luke snorted. “Yeah, sure, and for that you’d need guns and-” The realisation hit Luke hard, like crashing full-force into a brickwall.

“No.” He whispered, his eyes widening. Electric jolts making his hand shake, he clasped it over his mouth. “Oh my god. I was right. You… you are a drug dealer. Your whole gang, you… you’re financing yourself with dealing drugs and whatnot.”

Michael looked down and Luke nearly choked on his own spit. “No!” He got to his feet within seconds. “No! Michael, no! Tell me you’re joking.”

Luke stared at the older boy pleadingly, prayed the other boy would crack into his goddamn cocky grin in the next second and tell Luke this was all a dream and he was just kidding the younger boy. Michael didn’t.

So Luke said the only think he could think of, the only thing he would ever be able to think of when confronted with this knowledge. “You need to stop.”

This time, it was on Michael to furrow his brows. “What?”

“You need to stop, like doing it.” Luke purposelessly flailed his arms around. “The dealing or distributing or whatever you call it. Stop. Tomorrow. You’ll find something else, other work. Just stop.”

Michael looked at him for a long time before he eventually snorted. “Yes, alright, ballet boy. Dream on.”

“No.” And Luke felt desperation seep into his veins. In lack of a better idea he bridged the sole metre between them and planted himself on Michael’s lap, ran his fingers through the pink strands of hair almost frantically. Michael’s hands wrapped around Luke’s waist to steady him. “Please, listen to me, Michael.” Luke pleaded, gently, coaxing, buried his face in the other boy’s neck. “Stop doing it. Promise me.”

Michael’s body was giving in to Luke’s touch, his hands slipping underneath the younger boy’s shirt, but his words were not. Well, just one word that made the blood in Luke’s veins run cold, turned the desperation into panic. “Why?”

“Why? Michael!” Luke leaned back to meet the older boy’s eyes. “Because it’s wrong! You can’t be dealing drugs and- and…”

“... and what? Be your boyfriend?” Suddenly Michael’s whole posture turned hostile, his body going rigid beneath Luke, gaze more than intimidating. “I’m sorry, does that not fit into your five year plan?”

“I- what? No! Michael!”   
“Shut up!” Michael hissed and Luke felt like he had been slapped. “Get off of me! How dare you! You don’t know anything about my life or the things I do, okay?”

Luke was shoved mercilessly to the ground when Michael got up, glared down at him.

“Michael.” Luke could feel tears pool in the corner of his eyes, didn’t allow them to fall. Helplessly he reached a hand out to grab the older one’s. “I don’t understand. I thought we were-”

“What? A thing?” Michael laughed, actually laughed at him, like he had laughed at Luke what felt like an eternity ago in the kitchen at the house party. Luke flinched back as Michael crouched down to be on eye-level with him, let his index and middle finger ghost over the younger boy’s cheek.

"In your world you're a bystander, Luke, and I'm a villain.” There was a glint of something Luke couldn’t even think about trying to decipher in Michael’s smile as he pulled his hand back. Luke’s skin burned where Michael had almost touched it. “But in my world, in my world, I'm a hero. And I can't fight myself."

Luke didn’t understand. "What? What do you mean?"

"It means that you can't change the way you were taught to see the world and I can't and won't change who I am.” Michael shrugged as if to say ‘shit happens’. The older boys widened as he said his next world, as if the realisation had come to him in the same moment he was speaking. “It means that our worlds don't work together."

And Luke got it. Didn’t want to, though. "Wait, are you-"

"Yes." And the one syllable stings, burns like acid, takes the ground beneath Luke's feet away.

Vehemently, Luke shaked his head. No. "No."

"Yes." Michael repeated, softer but firmer this time. He stood up, backed away, backed away until his tailbone collided with the tabletop of his desktop. Michael was out of Luke’s reach, so far out of his reach.

"I'm breaking up with you, ballet boy.”

Luke didn’t want to hear it.

_No._

“We don't belong together."

"No." He said it out loud, this time. Michael only smiled at him, mirthlessly.

Luke shook his head. “No, Michael, please don’t. Look, I know… I know I fucked it up, yeah? You talked about guns and I got scared. I’m sorry that I didn’t reply to you these past two weeks. I’m sorry that I judged you. I swear I won’t do it again. And I-I don’t care what you do when you’re not with me.” He reached his hand out. Out of his reach. “Please, you can do whatever you want. Just, I don’t want to lose you.”

“See and that is.” Michael lifted the hand Luke had tried to grab, even farther out of Luke’s reach, and smiled again, sadly this time. “Is where you lie, princess. You do care. You don’t want me. You want a clean version of me. Exciting? Yes. And mysterious? Yes. Sexy? Oh, definitely. But dirty? No. No, you don’t want that. You don’t want anything that could permanently stain your pristine white vest. I think it’s time that you return to your castle, princess.”

“Michael.” He sobbed. Luke was sobbing. He hated it. He hated that he wasn’t able to deal with conflicts, with this conflict, with getting his heart broken because goddamn how could he have been so foolish to lose it.

“The dream is over, Luke.” Michael said coolly.

Luke did not hear him leave the room. He wanted to run. He wanted to run and leave, at least the flat and Michael’s room. Luke wanted to run. Though he knew, even if he would’ve tried, there would have been no air in his lungs to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	9. Arabesque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play, let's play dirty.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Mr Hemmings, would you be so good and stay behind after class?"

With a sigh, Luke set down his sports bag, ignoring Ashton who was looking at him with an even mixture of curiosity and pity in his eyes. Ashton didn’t know.

Biting his lip, Luke walked over to the stereo, while Mr Bailard waited until even the last of the other students had left the room. Then he turned to Luke, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Mr Hemmings, are you aware why I called you back?”

“Yes.” There would’ve been no sense in lying. Luke knew he danced like shit, had been for a while.

“Great, now do you have any idea how you could possibly explain your drop in performance?” Mr Bailard leaned forward, fixing him with clear grey eyes. “You used to belong to the best dancers of this class, Luke. I had high hopes for you. Now it seems like you can’t even focus for more than two steps.”

Luke let his head fall.

In the end it had been Calum who picked him off the floor.

“I’m sorry.” The other boy’s puppy eyes had been huge and sad as he had handed Luke some balled toiletpaper. Luke had accepted it thankfully, had sniffled and blown his nose before throwing the tissues away. Eventually, he had been able to take the hand Calum had been holding out for him and gotten to his feet.

“Can we make a deal?” Luke had asked and Calum had nodded, apprehensively.

“You don’t tell Ashton anything about me and Michael, like anything at all, and I help you the next time you two fight?”

Calum had smiled, obviously releaved he was able to. “I can do that.”

“Great.” Luke’s attempt at a smile had failed severely. He still gave Calum a lot of credit for pretending then that it didn’t. Afterwards the older boy had lead him out of the flat, shielding Luke with his body from the curious eyes of the others. The others minus Michael who had been nowhere to be seen. That had been a week  ago.

Luke cast his eyes down. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, I really am.”

“Well.” Mr Bailard leaned back with a sigh. “You have to try a little harder. Not just for your own benefit and safety but also for your partner’s. Getting diverted as a male dancer is dangerous. Dear Veronica relies on you to catch her when she jumps. Yesterday was a catastrophe.”

Luke winced at the memory. During the demonstration of a four-point-choreography they had learned that lesson, Luke had nearly dropped Veronica after he had lifted her up to the height of his shoulders. It had been more than embarrassing.

“That won’t happen again.” He promised. Luke had to make sure it wouldn’t.

“You’re right. It won’t.” Mr Bailard sized Luke up with a stern gaze. Then his features softened and he began walking towards the door. “Follow me.”

Luke hurried to do what he had been told, fear spreading throughout his body. Was he getting expelled? Was he getting suspended until he was back in form? Oh god, his mother would kill him.

Luke’s confusion only grew when Mr Bailard lead him out of the studio, down the hallway and up to the second floor where the company trained. Eventually they came to a halt in front of one of the studios. Through the panorama window in the wall, Luke could see a group of about thirty dancers at training. “Wait, here.”

Mr Bailard left him and entered the studio. Luke watched how he strut to the choreographer, talked to him for a little while before the other man nodded and clapped his hands. The choreographer talked for another minute, the dancers listening intently. Next they all turned around to look at Luke, who felt himself blush furiously at the sudden attention. He had barely time to fidget though when the eyes left him, one of the dancers raising his hand. He was tall and lean, twenty maybe, his complexion golden, wild mop of hair and lips a bronze tone. Mr Bailard walked over and shook his hand. They exchanged a few words, then Mr Bailard made a beeline for the door, the dancer right behind him. Luke gulped.

“Mr Hemmings?” Mr Bailard looked at him questioningly, suddenly standing in front of him.

Luke startled. He might’ve blacked out for a few seconds. “Yes?”

The other dancer, now standing only a metre away, chuckled at him, but not in a mean way. Mr Bailard laid a hand on the his shoulder.

“Luke, this is Valentino Bianchi. Valentino, this is Luke Hemmings. He’s one of my second years.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke.” Valentino smiled at him in a way that was most certain gorgeous. “You can call me Tino.”

“Tino.” Luke parroted.

“Valentino here has agreed to tutor you.” Mr Bailard smiled. “He’s an apprentice at our house and I have taught him myself when he was your age, so I know he’s good.”

“You flatter me, Sir.” Valentino grinned. His eyes, Luke noticed, were such a dark brown that they seemed almost black. That fact was suppressed in the next second though as Mr Bailard’s words reached Luke’s brain.

“Wait, does that mean I’m not expelled?”

“Please.” His teacher laughed. “Everybody has their lows, Mr Hemmings. I am absolutely positive Mr Bianchi will be able to pull you out of yours.”

“That I can do.” Valentino winked at Luke.

“Excellent. I took the liberty to book the studio for the two of you after our regular lessons every Tuesday and Thursday. Does that fit in your calendar, Mr Bianchi?”

Valentino pulled out his phone, tapping away for a few seconds before he nodded. “Five to six, right? No problem!”

After that, Luke was handed Valentino’s phone. He tapped in his number. Once he was done, the older boy tipped his non-existent hat and returned to his own training.  

As soon as he was gone, Luke hurried to express his gratitude to his teacher who just waved him off. “You are not the first student to need a little help. I expect you to be at your prime in no time again. I believe you can become a great dancer, Luke. You meet all the necessary requirements.”

“Thank you.” Luke said for the upteenth time.

His teacher rolled his eyes. “You are free to go now, Mr Hemmings.”

*

After that Luke did everything he could to not disappoint again. Apart from his normal classes and the times he managed to coax Ashton into training with him on the weekends, it were the tutoring lessons with Valentino that brought him one a brand new level of prime in no time, sore muscles and chapped toes aside. The apprentice dancer was a fantastic tutor, to say the very least. He gave Luke great tips but was also just the right amount of mercilessly. Soon enough Luke was able to keep up again. More importantly, the additional strain kept him on the brink of exhaustion, kept his mind occupied with ballet and nothing but ballet. There was no space for thoughts of certain pink-haired boys this way.

And after a month Luke was sure he would’ve been over Michael by now, if it weren’t for the fact that he had to see him every day at lunch when Calum and the older boy joined them.

Thankfully Calum had stayed true to his word and Luke was amazed how the raven-haired boy managed to keep Ashton just the right amount of occupied so that he never noticed the tension between Luke and Michael. Well, it wasn’t like they had been friends in public before anyways. Michael had never really talked to Luke whenever one of Luke’s friends had been around on Luke’s own request afterall.

Now they sat on opposing ends of the table, Michael either holding conversation with Calum or his lunch while Luke focussed all his attention on Veronica who seemed delighted. Though being just as witty and funny as her sister, she was definitely the shier twin, often letting Victoire take over when the both of them were addressed. Luke didn't mind though. He liked Victoire and her dry humour just as well, everything just so he did not have to look at his ex-boyfriend. And Luke didn't know what was worse. The days where he caught Michael looking at him, or the days he didn't.

*

“C’mon, dude. It will be fun, I promise.” Ashton pulled out the puppy eyes. Of course, he did. Had learned it from Calum, the fucker.

“I really don’t want to, Ash, I’m sorry.” To underline his statement, Luke pulled the duvet higher, underneath his chin. “I’m baked from training.”

“Please, you’re always baked from training. You don’t do anything else afterall. Live a little, seriously.” The curly-haired boy huffed, wriggling a bit from where he was perched on top of Luke. “It’s my monthiversary. Do you know the last time, Calum and I made it a month? You have to come! It’s a party dedicated to me, your person. Come on!”

Luke did indeed know how long it had been since the last time Ashton and Calum had made it without their usual monthly three day break-up. Calum had mentioned it when he had thanked Luke for intervening the time Ashton was close because Calum had forgotton Ashton’s mother’s sister’s birthday they were supposed to go to or something. The blonde boy groaned as he felt himself cave. “Fine, fine, okay. I’ll be ready in twenty, now get off of me!”

“You’re the best.” Ashton pressed a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheeks, then he was prancing out of Luke’s room, belting Katy Perry. Luke threw a pillow after him.

*

Luke had made it thirty minutes in and wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep. Right now he found himself wedged between a pissed off his arse Max who was chewing off his ear about a movie he had watched and Mohawk who didn’t seem to talk ever. Ear-splitting music was making the wall he was leaning against vibrate as he pretended to listen intently to Max’s story. The plastic cup he was clutching had been empty for several minutes already.

“Oh and also I wanted to say thank god you’re back, man, like maybe the slave labour has an end now!” Max bellowed into his ear, clapping him on the arm. “I’ve never experienced somebody being so pissed off for such a long time. Poor Sahin is nearly at the verge of a panic attack everytime Michael calls his name. .”

And Luke needed to get out of there as fast as he could. He hadn’t understand a word the red-dyed boy had just shouted to him but he was definitely not capable of talking about Michael. Handing Mohawk his empty cup, he excused himself with a lame “I need to use the bathroom, see you later!” and elbowed his way through the crowd into the next best direction. Which just so happened to lead him onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room, more precisely the middle of it.

Luke didn’t know anybody at the party besides Ashton and different Renegades so, after a short period of self-convincement, he thought _Fuck it, might as well_ and began dancing. Luke closed his eyes and let the bassline take over his body. Bodies melted into his, just to get swirled away a second later. The two beer he had had weren’t nearly enough to make him drunk but enough to make him a little more reckless than usual. Soon he was sandwiched between a guy and a girl, both a little older than him, making out over his shoulder. Luke didn’t care. He only cared about the friction the girl’s butt was giving him as they grinded in rhythm with the music. That changed though when the making out to his head got more heated and he began to feel kind of out of place. After a little struggle he had managed to extract himself from the couple who didn’t seem that deterred. Luke blinked, then made a beeline for the bathroom instead. He felt dirty.

The line in front of the only bathroom was as long as one would expect it. Luke made it a good two minutes in the queue before his bladder won against his pride and he dropped out of the queue in order to scamper further down the hallway. The farther he got the less people he met which was relieving, really. At least he could breathe here. His heart picked up pace as he pushed open the door to Michael’s room. The room was dark and empty, the usual chaos obscuring Luke’s way to the adjacent bathroom no one else had found which Luke was thankful for. Pointedly looking at nothing else but the door, he jumped over the heaps of clothing in his way and entered the bathroom with a relieved sigh. Luke was tempted to snoop around for a little bit, rummage through the cupboards and maybe steal a little bit of Michael’s cologne but then he decided that he actually wasn’t that pathetic and went to leave instead. He didn’t got to take more than two steps though. All air was knocked out of his lungs as a blur of green-plaid and pink pushed him backwards, back into the bathroom.

“Ballet boy.” Michael slurred at him, placing a hand on his hip as he leaned backwards, pushing the door closed with his body, effectively blocking Luke’s only escape. Luke hadn’t seen Michael all night but now that he did it was… it ripped his fucking heart out, _again_ , that was what happened.

“Michael.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you doing here, princess?” The pink-haired boy asked innocently, his vowels slower than usually. Drunk, Michael was drunk. Not pissed off his arse but enough to let some of his mask slip and reveal… cruelty, as Luke discovered. And he wasn’t here for it.

“I need to use the bathroom, what do you think?”

“My bathroom.” Michael smiled a tad too broad. “You used my bathroom.” The smile disappeared from his face. “Needed to wash whatever that whore and her fuckface boyfriend has left on you, didn’t you?”

“What? What are you-” Luke was cut off mid-sentence because suddenly Michael was on him, was there in his personal space, seizing him and pushing him around until his lower back collided with the rim of the basin. Luke gasped when Michael pressed against him, groped his back and arse. “You danced pretty though.” Michael told his jaw. “You always dance so pretty, ballet boy.” Luke struggled to break free but Michael was bigger than him, stronger. His blood ran cold at Michael’s next words. “Give me a lap dance, princess, and you’ll get it back.”

“What the fu- no!” Gathering as much force as he could Luke pushed against Michael’s chest causing the older boy to stumble back a step. “Why would I? You’ve broken up with me, remember?”

Michael just grinned, producing his hands from behind his back, waving a familiar small item in his hand. “Because I’ve got your key card.”

“Give that back!” Luke tried to snatch the white plastic card back but Michael just laughed, successfully holding it out of his reach. Next thing, Luke was pushed around again, against the door this time. Michael pressed the edge of the card against Luke’s cheek, securing him with his free arm and body in a way that left Luke no space to move.

“I just want you to dance with me, princess? Is that too much too ask for? You could do it with strangers just fine.”

“Stop touching me.” Luke tried.

Michael shook his head, his pale green irides dull. The green was almost completely swallowed by black. “But you let them touch you.”

He could feel it then, Michael’s hand that had dropped the keycard, had wandered down and was now stroking the patch of bare skin above his belt and underneath the hem of his ridden up shirt. “Everybody is always allowed to touch you, except for me.”

Michael’s breath reeked off of hard liquor and mint as he let his breath ghost against Luke’s lips.

Luke’s eyelids fluttered closed. “You made it that way.” He hissed, weakly.

Luke’s whole body tensed when Michael unbuckled his belt with nimble fingers. “I made it that way. Now other people want to touch your skin, taste it maybe. Skin, I touched first.”

Michael’s lips were hot and wet against the sensitive skin of his neck. “And that I tasted first. But.”

A low moan escaped Luke’s lips when Michael’s hand slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, the other palming him through the fabric of his jeans. Michael didn’t need to hold him in place anymore. Luke wouldn’t have been able to move anyway.

“You would never let anybody else touch you like I do, right?” Luke could feel the blood vessels pop where Michael was nipping at his throat. His brain short-circuited. It had been so long. Pressing out an incoherent mess of vowels, he shook his head.

“That’s right. And you won’t ever let them,” Luke whimpered, his eyes rolling back into his head when Michael put a firm grip around his length, “ _fuck_ you like I do. They could never be as good.”

Michael’s breath was hot against his throat. “Nobody could ever make you feel as good as I do, huh, princess?”

Luke’s head hit the bathroom door with a low thud, a row of whined expletives escaping his throat as Michael pumped his hand up and down, quickly picking up pace.

“If you’ve understood that, ballet boy?” Michael all but growled into his ear, his grip tightening so much that it nearly hurt.

“Y-yes.” Luke managed. “Yes. Nobody else but you.”

Michael kissed him and Luke nearly cried because he had missed this. He mad missed Michael’s touch and his lips and the taste of him underneath all the alcohol right now. His smell, now obscured by cologne and sweat and how it felt when the older boy pressed against him, took his breath away like this. He didn’t last long. Embarrassingly short, with Michael kissing the last of his brain cells out of him and his hand moving so good, thumb pressing over the slit of his head whenever his hand came up.

“Michael, I- Michael, I’m gonna-” He whined, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes.

“You can.”

Helplessly Luke bucked his hips up and into Michael’s now slick from precome hand, as he came, captivating bliss coursing through him in waves. It was only when he was able to breathe properly again, that he noticed Michael’s hand was gone. The older boy was towering over him, his gaze piercing again and horrifyingly sober. A sly, detesting grin spread over Michael’s lips as he leaned down, running his knuckles over Luke’s cheek, spreading the blonde boy’s own come there in the process. Then Michael pressed a soft kiss against his temple. “You’re still mine, ballet boy. Remember that.”

Luke was way too shell-shocked to react. Not when Michael took a step back to beam at him, not when he shoved Luke out of the way and left, left the bathroom like he had left his own room a month ago. Luke’s legs gave out underneath him. A dry sob escaping his lips, he slid down the wall. Luke barely managed to turn the lock before he felt the first wave of pure horror paralyse his limbs.

“Fuck!” Pressing his palms against his eyes, Luke kicked out against the cabinet underneath the sink. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because someone asked me this on tumblr the other day, I thought I'd mention it here as well: Younes is pronounced like You-ness and Sahin like Sha-heen. Hope that clears any confusion!
> 
> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	10. Pas De Deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my favourite fuckboy.  
> Happy birthday, Michael!  
> You are loved an awfully lot.

Smiling, Valentino handed him a water bottle. “I’m really proud of you, Luke. You made such progress since our first lesson.”

Still wheezing, Luke wiped the sweat off his face with the hem off his shirt, then he greedily took a sip.

“Thank you so much, seriously.” After he had placed the water bottle on the ground, Luke answered sincerely, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“Ah, it’s alright.” Valentino clapped him on the back. His hand stayed there. Luke didn’t mind. “Pleasure to work with you, Lukey, really. Though I fear I won’t be enjoying that pleasure much longer. You’re back in form already, there’s not much else I could teach you without stealing Mr Bailard all his work.”

Valentino’s black eyes twinkled as he winked at Luke, made Luke’s insides tingle. And Luke really couldn’t really be blamed for that. Valentino was just pleasant to be around, always polite, always kind and so well-mannered. Not to mention that he looked fantastic and danced even better. Most of all it was probably the fact that Luke knew Valentino liked him back. He could see it in the black irides of the older boy whenever he danced, when they talked to each other. There was always that kind of _want_ , Luke normally just knew from parties or- in any case, Valentino liked Luke. And Luke wanted to be wanted by a nice, normal person. Someone his mother would love.

Which was why he blurted out the next words. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

Okay, that had been kind of brash and all of a sudden and Luke barely refrained from clasping a hand over his mouth.

Valentino only blinked at him for a few moments, though, before a blinding smile spread over his face. “I would love to.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, of course.” Valentino grinned, moving the hand that was still resting on Luke’s shoulder in small circles. “You’re stunning, Luke. I’d be my honour.”

“Awesome.” Luke breathed, leaning down to pick up his bag.

“It will be.” Valentino agreed before turning towards the stereo.

*

Luke was standing in his bathroom, towelling his hair dry when his phone went off in the other room. Cursing, he scampered over, accepting the call while simultaneously picking the towel he had lost off the floor.

“Hello?”

“Aye, Luke!” Ashton. A very giddy sounding one, that was. Maybe slightly drunk. Luke had no idea how the curly-haired boy managed to get plastered almost every weekend and maintain his impeccable physique at the same time.

“Hey, Ash. What’s up?” Keeping the phone pressed to his ear with one hand, Luke trudged over to his wardrobe and rummaged through the white garment bags in search for something to wear. It was Saturday evening and Valentino would come pick him up in about twenty minutes. Movie date. Valentino had even pre-ordered their tickets. It was all so proper, made Luke feel warm inside.

“We we’re just wondering-” Ashton broke into a fit of giggles, scolding someone who was apparently tickling him. “No, stop that! Let me talk to Luke for a moment, yes? Thank you.”

There was rustling and then a cracking sound. Luke wondered for a moment if the call had been ended but then Ashton was back. “Hello?”

“Hi.” Luke said absentmindedly, his fingers groping over the collar of a crisp, black button-down. Either that or his grey long-sleeve. Luke would have to decide on his trousers first.

“Good, you’re still there. Anyways, yes, what I was saying. We were wondering if you wanna have some Mongolian with us?”

“Define us.” Luke tried really hard to keep his tone disinterested.

“Me, Calum, Mikey. Maybe the twins if they wanna as well.”

Luke nodded for no one. He had thought so. And… and this was actually too good of a chance to let it slip by.

“Oh, no.” Luke pursed his lips. “I’d love to, really. But I have a date tonight, so I can’t come. I’m sorry.”

“No way!” Luke winced and held the phone away from his ear as Ashton shrieked through the receiver. “Luke and a date!”

“Yes.”

“Not ‘yes’. Who is it? Do I know them? I’m your person, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uhm, it’s uhm Valentino?”

“Oh my god. Let me go, Calum, for a moment.” There was a beat of silence where Ashton sat up, Luke presumed. “This is too good. Luke Hemmings, you’re not banging your ballet tutor, are you?”

Luke grinned at Ashton’s excitement. “It’s only a date, Ash.”

He’d go for the grey long-sleeve. It worked better with his light denim jeans.

“Pff, stop being such a humble bitch and elaborate. What are you doing?”

“Movie date? Don’t know which movie. He bought the tickets.”

“How romantic.” Ashton cooed over the line. “Call me as soon as you’re done, yeah? I want details!”

“Will do.” Luke promised.

“Okay. Calum is annoying me. Need to go now, bye!”

“Bye.” Luke told he already dead line. Smiling to himself, he shimmied into his jeans.

*

Luke let out a low whistle when Valentino lead him to his car. It was a sleek, black german make, tripod-star on the hood.

“Shut up!” The older boy laughed, shoving at his shoulder with their joint hands. “Once you’re an apprentice you can afford that too.”

“I hope so.” Luke was not quite able to ban all anxiety from his voice.

“Hey, Lukey, look at me.” Leaving the passenger door open, Valentino turned to him instead. “I know you and I know how you dance, okay? You’ll make it. Safe bet.”

Luke bit his lip. “Really?”

“Really.” The older boy squeezed his hand reassuringly, then let go. “Now hop in the car. Our film starts in twenty minutes.”

It was nice. Luke felt nice during the whole date. Valentino had chosen some visually stunning sci-fi fest which was captivating enough to not get bored and slow enough so Luke could keep sneaking glances at the older boy’s profile. Or at their joint hands, resting on the arm rest between them. It was nice.

After the screen had faded to black, Valentino helped him to his feet, slinging an arm around his shoulder on the way out of the theatre.

“I really enjoyed myself tonight, Lukey. We should do this again some time.”

Luke smiled and shuffled around until he was in front of the bronze-haired man. They were standing in front of the theatre now. “Me too.”

A tiny dimple destroyed the otherwise impeccable symmetrics of Valentino’s face as he leaned forward, tipped Luke’s face up with the index finger of his free hand. Luke’s eyes fluttered shut as Valentino leaned in.

Their lips hadn’t touched when Luke was pulled back by the hem of his jacket. He stumbled for a bit, panic settling in his chest as his vision unblurred.

“Keep your hands off my boy, Hairspray, or I’m gonna break them.”

Luke’s heart sank.

“Michael, no!” Luke tried to pull Michael away from Valentino but was pushed to the ground when Michael teared himself loose, in order to clasp his hands around Valentino’s collar. Luke’s eyes teared up as his arse collided with the cold concrete of the pavement but he had no time to wince. Within seconds he was on his feet again, trying to separate the older boys.

“Woah, easy, man! I didn’t do anything.” Valentino struggled to detach Michael’s hands from his shirt.

“Bullshit!” The pink-haired boy spit, his grip tightening. 

“Michael!” Luke yelled, clung himself to Michael’s arm.

“I don’t know who you blew to get your visage looking like that but be sure you can pay another three grand for your nose if you touch him again.”

“Let me go!” Composure gone, Valentino wrenched himself out of Michael’s grip with an indignant huff. Michael motioned to go after him but Luke had already wrapped his arms around the older boy’s torso, holding him back. Hastily, Valentino took a few steps out of his reach.

“You’re batshit, man.” Expression sour, the bronze-haired man rightened his colour, walking further backwards.

His eyes only softened when he met Luke’s gaze. “Sorry, Lukey, I’m out of here. Call me whenever Pink Goblin here is out of the picture.”

With a disparagingly shake of his head, Valentino turned around.

As soon as the older boy was gone, Michael turned towards Luke, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “So ‘Lukey’, huh?”

Luke was pretty sure his eye twitched. Anger rising in his chest, he pushed against Michael’s chest. He needed space between them. Exploding, he shouted. “Was that necessary? What are you even doing here? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Michael scowled, roared right back. “I just saved your sorry arse from a pedophile, babe, I think a little gratitude would be appropriate!”

“No.” Luke shook his head. “No! Don’t even start that shit right now, Michael. You don’t ‘babe’ me! You don’t call me anything at all! It was your choice.”

And there were the tears again. His inability to not cry like a baby for once in his goddamn life fueled Luke’s anger even more. “You broke up with me.” He raised his finger. “You broke up with me! You ended it because I cared about you and wanted you to stop doing something that could get you in jail or even worse.” Luke’s throat closed up. “That could get you _killed_. So don’t blame me for trying to get over it. Don’t blame me for trying to get over _you_!”

It wasn’t like it worked anyway, Luke thought bitterly. Nice hadn't compared. Valentino hadn't compared at all, hadn't flashed his mind once. But it could've, some time. Michael tried to interrupt him but Luke didn’t let him.

He heaved in a breath. “And stop fucking… ambushing me. You have no right to do that! You have no right to call me yours because I’m not! I was and now I’m not. And that’s your fault. It’s your fucking fault.”

Michael looked like he had been slapped. Growling, Luke wiped his eyes, took a step back when Michael reached a hand out.

“Princess.” The pink-haired boy sounded broken. Finally.

Luke felt his facial muscles distort into a pained grin, his jaw clenched. Then his legs caved under him. Involuntarily he crouched down. There was so much pain and anger coursing through his body, concentrating in his chest. Trembling, he pressed his hands over his ears. “Stop saying that. Stop calling me endearments like you mean it!”

“Luke, please.” Hands, hands on his back and in his hair, stroking, petting, helplessly.

Luke flinched to shake them off. “Stop touching me!”

“Luke.” Michael’s voice was so small, so sincere and careful.

He sniffled. “Leave me alone.”

“Listen, maybe I made a mistake, okay?" Luke increased the pressure on his ears. It was not enough to blend Michael's voice out. "Maybe I overreacted and didn’t mean it and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I broke up with you, Luke, I really am.”

Luke shook his head. Lies, all lies.

“And I regret it! I don’t want to broken up anymore. I… I miss you. And I want you back. I want you back, princess.” Not louder than a whisper, Michael breathed the last words into his hair. “I’m sorry. I want you back.”

Luke didn’t know how long they stayed like this on the pavement, Luke crumbled into a ball and Michael somehow trying to hug him, comfort him.

Eventually Luke’s breath evened out and pried his eyes open, met Michael’s hesitant smile. He couldn’t live like this.

So Luke lied. “I don’t.”

The blonde boy could see the exact moment Michael realised what Luke was saying. Pure horror took over the older boy’s face.

Luke forced the next words out nonetheless. “I don’t want to be with you again, Michael. You were right. Our worlds don’t work together.”

 _Tell me you know I’m lying. Don’t let me go. Fight, fight a little longer._ But Michael didn’t. Like a scalded cat, the older boy jumped up, stared down at him. Luke could see the agony in his eyes, watched it disappear behind a mask of impassiveness way too quickly. “Is that so?”

Luke let his head fall. He dug his nails into the palm of his hands, anchoring himself with the sharp sting.

“Yes.” He told the pavement. He didn’t need to look up to see the infinitesimally nod Michael was giving. Luke closed his eyes as Michael’s boots disappeared out of his sight.

*

Michael had parked his motorcycle in some shady back alley, the stench of overfilled garbage containers nearly making him retch. It was the stench, definitely. Just when he had ripped opened the trunk under his seat, his phone started blasting the first tones of his favourite Good Charlotte song.

"Oh, motherfucker." Pressing the phone against his ear, he barked into the speaker. "What?"

"I-I'm sorry, Michael. Is now not a good time?"

Sahin. He sighed. The novice was probably traumatised by now. "Doesn't matter. What is it?"

"Well, uh... there's a problem."

"I don't have time for this." Michael mumbled under his breath. Audibly, he added. "Spit it out, Sahin."

The other boy cleared his throat. "So Calum just called home, he uhm he and the others got into a brawl."

Michael felt his blood run cold. Involuntarily, he gripped the strap of his helmet tighter. "Anybody hurt?"

"That's kind of like the thing..."

Having wedged the phone between his cheek and shoulder, Michael was already busy slipping into his bike gloves. "Sahin, I swear to god, tell me what happened now or I will rip your head off and shove it up your-"

"We don't know!" Sahin finally blurted out. "They were in 79er district the last time we got a call back. They were on their bikes, definitely, but they should already have been back like half an hour ago. Then one of our shops called and reported that Elliott and his posse are on the streets."

"Fuck."

"You want me to call of tonight's run and send someone out?"

"No, it's-" Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. "We can't afford that. Rent is coming up and Zarah's school fines as well. And I don't wanna breach any reserves, winter's just over. Tell Max he's responsible for tonight's run. They have to be careful, they are supposed to only supply our main customers. I'm gonna look after the others myself. Call you back in twenty."

"O-okay."

Michael forced his voice to stay calm . "It's okay, Sahin. It's not your fault."

"I- thank you."

"Start the counter." Exhaling, Michael ended the call. It took the last of his self-control to not throw the phone against the wall. As soon as he had put it back in his pocket, he put on his helmet and jumped on the Yamaha. He couldn't help the slight tingle of perverted anticipation in his guts. He longed to beat up someone anyways. Schooling his heartbeat into a steady pace, he kicked the motorcycle to a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke's song, and probably the song for this whole fic turned out to be Wonderland by Taylor Swift. Michael's song (and ringtone) is Keep Your Hands Off My Girl by Good Charlotte. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think via kudos, comments and/or on my [tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> xx, Carly


	11. Pirouette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: You probably shouldn't eat while reading this. Heh. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Michael pressed the gas pedal down farther causing the Yamaha to surge forward with a roar. He could hear the engine of several bikes behind him give an angry hum as his trackers speed up as well.

 _Fucking sewage rats_ , Michael thought and turned a sharp right. He nearly collided with a cab as he took the turn but managed to steer onto the pavement last moment. The people walking there gave protesting shouts as he flew past them but he was too fast gone to hear any of it. As soon as he saw a gap in the traffic he steered back onto the streets, sidling his way through the too slow cars. The lights of the street lamps blinded him in regular intervals, adrenaline keeping his mind focussed and his eyes sensitive to the flashing sensation.

It had been weirdly fitting to the rest of this night that he had run into some of Elliott’s men almost the moment he had entered their territory. Michael wasn’t quite sure how many 79ers were out but he knew that right now at least half of them were chasing after him. Half a kilometre up front there were blinking signs warning him of a construction side. Cursing Michael made the addition the his mental map. There were only two other routes he could take if he wanted to be back in his own territory in time for Sahin to call him. Ignoring the red light, he speed around the corner of the next crossroads.

A grave mistake, he realised in the same second, as he was confronted with oncoming traffic. Kicking the brake as hard as he could, he ripped the handlebars around. The Yamaha tilted forward, back wheel leaving the ground, and slithered to a halt, catapulting him off, into the air. Michael tried to protect his head with his arms but wasn't fast enough. Shoulder first, he crashed into the asphalt. A loud yelp escaped his lips as he felt the bone of his right underarm break upon the collision, followed by a pained groan as he rolled a few times over the scattered limb before his body stilled. Pain erupted all over his body, made his muscles cramp and his jaw clench, a single, continuous heave of breath leaving his body. Then his lungs were empty and his muscles went numb. Vision blurring, Michael let his head fall to the side. Through the visor of his helmet he could see his trackers descend their machines. Michael blinked and saw sky blue and gold and a dust of pink intensifying by the second. He blacked out before they reached him.

*

Luke was about halfway through the ice-cream pint Ashton had stolen from Victoire for him when Ashton eventually asked. “He, Luke?”

“Yes?” He wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. The fabric was old and thin. Luke had nicked the jumper from Jack a couple of years ago because he had liked the penguin on the front. His mum called it his “sad sweater”.

“You gonna tell me now why I found you sobbing on my doorstep, or…” The other boy trailed off, his brows furrowing. “I mean if that Valentino needs to like be beaten up or something, you can tell me, yeah? I just need to know what he did.”

Luke shook his head. “Nu-no it’s not that. The date was great.”

“Really?” Ashton raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Then why are you crying?”

Luke looked at his ice-cream. With a sigh, he set the pint down onto the bedside table, then he pulled his knees to his chest, his head hitting the wall with a low thud.

“Michael showed up.” He told the ceiling light.

“Why would he-?”

Luke rubbed a hand over his face. This was it, then. “We uh- we kind of had this thing going on? For the past two months? We uhm…”

“Luke.”

He winced. “We hooked up a couple of times.” 

“Luke.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not right. That sounds like it was about the sex. It was not. We were like- we would’ve been proper. In a relationship and all. He didn’t tell anybody because I wasn’t ready and then some stuff happened, basically I freaked when…” It was then that Luke realised something.

Heart sinking, he turned to face the other boy. “Ashton, do you know that Calum and Michael are in a gang? That they deal drugs?”

The curly-haired boy looked at him for a couple of seconds. Eventually he averted his gaze to a spot somewhere to the right. “They don’t really like it when someone calls it gang, actually. They are a family. And drugs is not the only thing they distribute. They will transport pretty much anything for the right price.”

Luke felt his jaw drop ajar. Ashton smiled at him, eyes sad. “When I found out, I broke up with Cal. I was so mad, Luke, you can’t imagine the things I told him.”

Luke could. Ashton shook his head. “I avoided him for a good month or so but you know Calum. He finds his ways.”

The sadness disappeared from Ashton’s face, was replaced with such adoration and fond that Luke felt his throat close up. “Climbed into my room at arse o’clock in the morning, the lunatic. We fought again, and I was so determined to end it, Luke, I really was. But then I changed my perception.”

“How?”

Ashton smiled, his fingers coming up to dance over Luke’s knee. He stretched three out. “My mother has three jobs. That I’m on a scholarship makes things easier, of course, but I still have two siblings who need braces and want iPhones and all the stuff the other kids have. I send some of the scholarship money home. Only get a new pair of shoes when I really need it. I can’t even remember the last time I bought clothes for myself.”

Luke made a mental note to take the curly-haired boy shopping for christmas. He squeezed Ashton’s shoulder before he asked. “But how did that change your perception?”

“I do everything I can to support my family, take care of them. How could I possibly blame Calum for doing the same thing? The Renegades took him in when he was fourteen. He’s an orphan and nobody knows if his sister can even be found on this continent. Those boys are his family. They are a family. Michael threatened to beat me up so many times during the first year where I broke Calum’s heart more often than anybody can ever know, you can’t imagine.”

Luke could.

“Still,” Ashton’s eyes shone wet for only the blink of an eye. “Still he was the one who came to my practical exam last year, facetiming the whole thing for Calum.”

Luke heaved in a breath but Ashton cut him short. “Don’t ask. You don’t wanna know.”

That didn’t calm Luke in the least but he let the other boy continue nonetheless. “Okay, go on.”

Ashton nodded. “What I mean to say is. We all take care of the ones we love. We all have people we would do anything for. Just because they found another way to do that doesn’t give us the right to judge them.”

Luke nodded slowly. His head was spinning from all the information he had just gotten, but he got the point. “I think I get the point.”

“Good.” Ashton sat up, eyes brightening indefinitely. “Now can you explain the FUCK TO ME HOW YOU ENDED UP FUCKING FUCKING MICHAEL CLIFFORD AND DIDN’T TELL ME?”

There were a good five minutes after Luke had ended telling Ashton well everything during which the curly-haired boy just gaped into thin air.

“Wow.” He pressed out, eventually. “That is a whole lot.”

“Yeah.” Luke sniffled. Somewhere along the line the waterfalls had started up again.

“First things first, I can’t believe how I haven’t seen this. ” Ashton shook his head, lips forming a small pout. Then his expression turned into a frown. “More importantly, I call bullshit on that whole ‘our worlds don’t work together’ chit-chat.”

The curly-haired boy huffed. “Look at Calum and I. If you really want to be with someone, there are ways. The question is if you want it, if you want to go through that, figuring out how to accept somebody’s flaws. It can take a ridiculous amount of time, again look at Calum and I. We’re at it for over three years now and sometimes I still want to throw him off the next cliff, so much that I break up with him from time to time. But we always get back together. Because even though I’m a stupid, heartless stuck-up who treats Calum way worse than I should, I still love him. And that’s why he never gives up. Because he knows that and he loves me as well. Do you love Michael?”

Luke pressed his eyes shut, enveloping his head in his hands. “I told him I didn’t. He told me that he made a mistake, that he wanted me back. And I told him I didn’t. I thought it wasn’t right, the way he had done all these things, was doing all these things to me. How foolish of me. How haughty of me to judge his actions when I not once looked into his motives. I never gave him a chance to explain himself and I told him I didn’t. ”

“Luke.”

Luke looked up. His heart was hammering against his ribcage. But Ashton wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at his hands, at Luke’s phone in his hands. The screen was lit up, Coldplay blaring from tinny sounding speakers. “What is it?”

Ashton’s brows furrowed. “Luke, why is my boyfriend calling you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to let me know what you think via kudos/comments or on my tumblr [mikeykink](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com/) or follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dendroluke) so we can be friends :) 
> 
> xx, Carly


	12. Tou'r En L'air Double

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to the brave souls that made it this far. 
> 
> Enjoy the finale! 
> 
> (TW Graphic Depictions of Violence, TW Torture, TW Hurt - please be careful)

Michael was on his knees. A pitiful stench clogged up his nose and respiratory system with every intake of air, made his breathe go ragged. Or maybe that was the pain. Probably a mixture of both.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, one arm tied behind his back while the other, broken one hung useless against his side, just waiting for a mussel to be pressed against the back of his head. He counted in periods of his legs falling asleep under his weight. Again, he didn't know what was worse. The times were they were numb and useless, eradicating every hope of him being able to run away on his own, or the times they were sizzling awake, uncomfortable, tingling electricity shooting through every single muscle one by one.

Michael blinked behind the scrap of fabric covering his eyes, swaying his gaze around uselessly.

He knew he was in some kind of abandoned factory hall. Two-leveled, since he remembered being dragged down a metal flight of stairs, yet had felt the sun on his face during dawn. Before the sun had been replaced by rain of course, pelting loudly against the thin roof, robbing him of his only time indicator.

Chilly wind blew through the shattered part of the window screens, made him shiver. His favourite dark green flannel was ripped, exposing most of his chest and back. They had sliced it open just for fun, not even piercing his skin in the progress. One of their knives had only scraped along one of his clavicles when he had struggled to break free as they had burned his leather jacket in front of him. Michael hadn’t seen it because of the blindfold but he hadn’t need to. The smell had been enough.

His stomach twisted as he heard the familiar grating soundof whatever entrance door there was being slid open and a few moments later slammed shut with a crack. Then there was the thundering of heavy boots over wet concrete and the rustling of something. Also breathing. The fact that Elliott was a mouth-breather was probably the thing Michael hated most about him. Right after the perverted inclination for torture, that was.

Michael flinched when the blindfold was ripped off his head with one sharp pull, taking a few of his hairs with it. Elliott was crouched down directly in front of him, grinning like the rat he was.   
“Oh god.” Michael groaned. “Please put the blindfold back on. I’m not sure I can deal with your ugly-ass mug.”

Elliott socked him on the chin in one clean punch. The force made Michael’s head fly back, let him see stars. By the time he had blinked them away, Elliott had stood up, was now towering over him. There was a gun in his hands. Casually he was spun it over his index finger.

“You should watch your mouth, Clifford.”

Michael tilted his face up. He smiled sweetly. “Won’t make you any prettier if I do, I fear.”

This time, he bled. Rapidly his mouth filled with the taste of iron, made him gargle even before the grip of the gun had detached from his jaw. Growling, he spit it against Elliott’s thigh. Michael could see the grip around the gun tighten at that.

“You have a big mouth for a dog.” In one swift motion, Elliott kicked against his broken arm, made him hiss. Michael’s head fell as he tried to breath the pain away, drips of blood forming a small puddle in front of him. “Especially for one with a broken paw. Want me to break the other as well?”

Michael laughed. More blood splattered on the ground, his thigh, some even on Elliott’s shoes. He didn’t need to look up to see the the other man was frowning.

“You can, if you want.” Michael said, still grinning. His jaw clenched, he was grinning so wide. “You can break the other arm and my legs. You can punch me till you’re tired and slice into my skin. I’m not scared of you. No pain you could possibly bring upon me will break me. You’re too late.”

“Brave you are.” Elliott’s hand wrapped around his chin, forced him to look up. He didn’t yield as the other man examined him. “There’s a reason they made you the leader of your miserable little pack of lost boys.”

“I’m not the leader.” Michael growled but his words were drowned out by Elliott standing up.

“Fine, if you want to say so. And I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then why the fuck am I here?”

The older man smiled at him, mirthlessly. “I will trade you in, dumb wolf. See how much exactly you mean to Younes. You think he will give up the Western district for you?”

Michael pressed his teeth together. “You overestimate my worth.”

“I think you underestimate it, actually.” Pale-skinned fingers came up to stroke over his cheek. Michael wriggled to get out of Elliott’s reach, received a sharp slap in return.

“You’re not getting anything out of me. I’m worthless. Just kill me, already, you ugly-ass motherfucker.”

Elliott’s eyes turned dark with anger. Snarling, he pressed the mussle of the gun against Michael’s chin. “You’re really so eager to die?”

Michael was careful to gather as much blood in his mouth as he could. Then he spit it out, coating the man’s face in red. “Fuck you.”

The first kick was enough to make him bend over. The second send him tumbling to the side. A sharp intake of air, as Michael landed on his right arm, pain exploding all over his body.

Elliott roared. “You can have your way.”

Michael closed his eyes as he saw the other man lift the hand that was holding the gun. He was ready for this. Then there was the clasp of thunder, the shattering of glass and the deafening sound of a gunshot being fired.

*

If someone would’ve told Michael that he would end up in heaven, he probably would have laughed in their faces. But then he never would have thought he would die at nineteen. Sure, someone maybe could have told him that the pain didn’t stop, that his body was still shattered and he still got this earthy feeling. But he wasn’t going complain. Because he got Luke, in his heaven. And that was all Michael could have ever asked for. Michael got his boy.

His smell at least. The delicious scent of shower gel and expensive cologne and just _Luke._

Michael pried his eyes open. There was no sound, in his heaven, but he had vision. He had Luke’s face above him, sky blue and gold and pink intensifying by the second. God, Luke was so beautiful. Michael didn't understand how he had ever been able to hurt him. Michael sincerely hoped it didn’t count anymore, now that he was dead. Smiling, he lifted his hand to touch Luke’s cheeks, draw some red on them with blood-coated fingers.

It startled him that they were already wet. Luke was crying. Michael wanted to frown but his facial muscles weren’t obeying him, broadened into a wider smile. Luke shouldn’t be crying in Michael’s heaven. Luke should all be sassy remarks and bashful smiles and fluffy socks against his shins. His thoughts got distracted for a moment when the pain in his lower body was intensified. Somebody was pressing down on his stomach, making it hurt.

“Ow.” Michael voiced. Then the sound came.

“Stay with me, Michael, please. Please, please, I beg you, stay with me.” Luke was screaming at him. Michael didn’t like that. He hated seeing Luke upset. He wanted a refund for his heaven. This was too close to hell. In silent protest, he screwed his eyes shut. Or maybe because he was tired, he wasn’t sure.

“Oh no! No! No no! Don’t you dare leave me! You’re staying right here with me! _Michael!_ ” The next of Luke’s words were clipped, interrupted by hiccups or sobs or something as un-nice as that. Michael definitely wanted a refund. Maybe he needed to sleep and would wake up in the right heaven. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

“Don’t do this to me, Michael. I love you, okay? I love you! I’m going to tell the fucking world that, okay? But you have to open your eyes for that, baby. You are not leaving me. Open your eyes, Michael, please. Stay with me!”

“With you.” Michael wanted to say, but darkness had already taken over.

*

Luke stared at his lunch, picked the salad apart lettuce leaf for lettuce leaf.

“Luke.” Ashton’s chiding voice sounded to his left. “You need to eat.”

He shook his head. “Can’t.”

“C’mon, dude, it can’t be that bad.” Calum supplied and for a moment Luke contemplated pinching his shoulder, the one all bandaged up where a six inch knife had been buried. Then Luke remembered what Calum had done to the owner of said knife with nothing but his right hand and a baseball bat. He looked down at his styrofoam plate. “I’m just not hungry.”

“I get that. I do.” Ashton rubbed a hand over his shoulder, making him flinch. “But you have to eat. It won’t help you if you don’t.”

Luke wanted to tell him that there was nobody that could help him. That it was his fault and his alone. Then he decided that he was too tired for that. He didn’t get more than a few hours of sleep per night, four on a good night, none on a bad. Yesterday had been a bad one.

“I’m just-”

He was cut off then by the roar of an engine. The deceptively familiar sound made his head whip up and his heart pound. Once the sound had faded though, his head fell.

He was stupid, so stupid. Angrily Luke picked another leaf of lettuce apart.

“Luke Hemmings, I swear to god, if you don’t eat some of that right now, I will force-fed you.”

“Leave me alone, Ashton.” Luke had intended to hiss, but it came out more like a sigh.

“They’re right you know. You need to eat.”

Luke’s whole body went rigid. No fucking way.

He wanted to whip his head around but was cut short by lips on his neck, making his whole body turn into a wobbly mass of goo. Then the lips were gone and Michael was slumping down next to him, casually throwing an arm around his shoulder. Luke was having none of it. Angrily, he pushed the older boy off of him, turned to glare at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Michael smiled at him innocently. “Eating lunch with my friends and boyfriend, why?”

He waved a paper bag full of sandwiches in front of Luke’s face before dropping it on the table. Luke could hear Calum trying to suppress laughter.

“Oh my god, stop bullshitting me! You’re supposed to be in the hospital! How- how did you even get out of there? Who discharged you?”

“Uhm…”

“Michael.” Luke threatened.

“Fine, I discharged myself.”

“No.” Luke was this close to hyperventilating. Maybe it was due to the lack of sleep. Speaking of which… “No!”

Luke jumped up, causing Michael to follow him. “Look at you!”

He pointed at the cast around Michael’s right under arm and the remnants of stitches on his lip. The rest of his body, the bandaged cuts on his torso and the bullet wound centimetres away from his navel hid by a shabby old bandshirt and brand new leather jacket that smelled minutes old. “You nearly died in my arms three fucking weeks ago! I did not spend the past three weeks in the hospital, sacrificing half of my sleep for nearly a month, for you to walk around right now! You are not fucking walking around right now! You- you didn’t drive here on a motorcycle!” Luke’s voice cracked at the last word because of the volume and highness his voice had reached as he spotted the black Yamaha mere metres away.

“Uhm…” Michael did his best at a guilty expression but his eyes were too bright, the amused twitch to his lips giving him away.

“And stop fucking laughing at me!” Luke would’ve thrown something at the pink-haired boy but the risk of him actually hitting Michael was too great. Instead he grabbed the helmet Michael had placed under their bench and pressed against the older boy’s chest. “Go back to the hospital!”

Michael took the helmet but pulled Luke in along the way.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re angry.” The older boy grinned before crashing their lips together. “I’m sorry I couldn’t wait ‘til tonight.”

Luke felt himself melt into the touch, helplessly, like he always was when it came to Michael. But not this time.

“Nu-uh.” Forcefully he detached their lips, pecking Michael’s once after because he was weak.

“Don’t take him seriously, Michael!” Ashton chimed from where he and Calum were still seated at their table. “Mr Bailard scolded him today because he’s been late for class. Lukey’s been pissy all morning.”

“You’re a great friend, Ashton.” Luke threw over his shoulder before giving Michael a light yet deliberate push against the chest. “You go. Now.”

“Fine.” Michael grumbled, walking backwards. Once he had reached the Yamaha, Luke turned back around, slumped down at their table with an angry huff.

“Hey, princess!” Luke could hear Michael yell over half the yard. It was not only him but also pretty much all the people at the other tables who turned to look at the pink-haired boy. Most of them were dancers Luke knew from school.

“What?” He bellowed back.

The sun seemed black against the grin Michael produced. “I love you!”

And Luke could feel his cheeks heat up like wildfire. All eyes were on him now.

Slowly he stood up, his gaze locked on Michael as he turned to leave. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Michael’s smile falter, a huge grin spreading over his own face as he whirled back around in the last moment and took a run.

As soon as he was close enough, he leapt into the air, doing a full spin twice before landing directly in front of his boyfriend, one knee on the ground, the other bent in a ninety degree angle. Plastering the widest smile he could muster on his face, Luke stretched out his arms. Most of the people around them, the dancers who knew the ballet leap whooped. Some even pulled out their phones to film the whole thing.

“What does that mean?” Luke could hear Calum ask nervously while he himself was still busy beaming up at Michael.

Ashton’s answer was deterred by laughter. “That was a _tour en l’air double_.”

Ashton snickered, presumably at Calum’s bemused expression. “It’s one of the most complicated leaps there are. Only excellent dancers can do it.”

“Yeah, yeah fine. But what does it mean?”

Ashton shouted the answer, translated it for everyone to hear. Luke wanted everyone to hear. “ _Michael, you’re my prince! I worship you! Be mine and we shall be together. My admiration for you knows no borders._ It means 'I love you' _._ ”

The last part the curly-haired boy added quietly. Luke rolled his eyes when he realised Ashton was telling them to Calum, exclusively.

Luke had no more time to be annoyed, though, because in the next moment he was pulled up and against another boy. Michael’s lips were rough on his, chapped from the cold air of the hospital air conditioning, the thread of the stitches tickling Luke’s bottom lip as he ran his tongue over Michael’s teeth to nudge them open. Luke couldn’t care less.

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” He mumbled once they broke for air.

“Yeah but you just confessed your love to me in front of like the whole Sydney ballet scene, so the fuck do I care.” Michael beamed, green eyes flashing in the sunlight.

“Go to the hospital.” Luke laughed, running his hands through the older boy’s hair, making him hum.

“Oh, I will.”

Michael picked the helmet back up from where he had placed it on the handlebar of the Yamaha. Luke inhaled when Michael pushed it into his hands. “And you’re coming with me.”

Luke was about to protest but then he met Michael’s gaze, searched the light eyes and found nothing but deepest adoration in them. He caved.

“Fine.”

“Great. Need to prove to these bitches that you’re mine truly.”

Luke’s comment was cut off by Michael pushing the helmet over his head. The pink-haired boy kissed the closed visor before hopping onto his motorcycle, patting the seat behind him with a grin.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Michael asked and Luke really wanted to slap the smirk right off his stupid pretty face.

“Please.” He huffed through the padding and climbed on the back seat. Luke wasn’t scared. He had seen so much worse than motorcycles. With Michael right next to him, he felt as if nothing could faze him, not anymore.

“You should probably sling your arms around my waist… for safety and all that.” Michael commented before pushing his feet off the ground.

“For safety.” Luke smiled into the padding.

The older boy shrugged. “Just saying.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, princess. Hold tight, yeah.”

Luke wrapped his arms around Michael from behind, careful to avoid all injured areas. Then he perched his chin on the older boy’s shoulder, an excited yelp escaping him when Michael pushed them off the curb and onto the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it. We made it again, I can't believe it. We found yet another finale. 
> 
> Thanks to all of you beautiful people, thank you for your kudos and comments and fanmail on tumblr and just giving this story a chance. I love all of you, dearly. [Tumblr](http://mikeykink.tumblr.com), as usual. 
> 
> xx, Carly


End file.
